Tired
by Golden-Mist
Summary: She never writes 'I'm sorry.'
1. I Never Thought I'd Die Alone

**I'm leaving an author's note to kind of explain this because the subject matter is very important to me. Sometimes there is no rhyme or reason to life. Sometimes people just get tired, and that's it. They're worn down; life's too hard for them. It's not okay, but it happens. I'm telling you if you ever get tired the way Rachel does in this fic, the way I have in my life, just live through the moment, please. There's always something - family, friends, dreams - to wake you up again.**

**This fic is like a series a snapshots. The ending is ambiguous but I'm planning on continuing it. The writing is choppy and sometimes nonsensical and that's how I wanted it to be. Feel free to give your honest opinions. This story is not trying to preach to anybody, it's just a story. And Rachel's is not my expy. This is something I could legitimately see happening to her.**

* * *

Noah is cleaning out Finn's pool when Rachel Berry gets tired for the first time.

It is random and random things do not often happen to Rachel Berry. She kind of hates random, actually.

So she shrugs it off and helps Noah push Finn in.

* * *

She's not shatterproof glass, regardless of what others may think. She breaks. A lot. She's just very determined to not let anything break her stride.

She's not shatterproof glass. She just has some really strong glue.

* * *

Jesse was a part of that glue. Then he smashed an egg on her head.

She misses Jesse.

The feeling creeps in.

* * *

The school year starts and Rachel couldn't be happier. She's excited about glee club and classes and she's even pretty confident, with Noah on her right and Finn on her left, that she won't get slushied (_that much_).

Then they see Quinn and all the sudden the air to her right is very empty and Finn's step falters and her heart falters.

* * *

Noah was her friend, this last summer. Quinn and her mother had taken a long vacation to Rome to wash away the last year of regret and as a result, Finn and Rachel ended up with a very bored Noah Puckerman.

It wasn't so bad. (_It was wonderful _(_**lovely**_)). They showed her how to play videogames, Noah taught her how to drive. They took her on bowling nights and made her sing purposely bad at karaoke. They made her watch _Die Hard _and she made them (Finn, really; Noah was Jewish and lived with two girls) watch _Funny Girl_.

They were _her_ boys.

But they walk in the hall that morning and spot Quinn Fabray and Noah is gone, gone, gone. And Rachel knows he won't come back. Because Quinn? Has got a Cheerio uniform on. She looks like she did last year.

Finn looks a little starstruck.

Oh, she was so silly. To think that _she'd _ever be their girl.

* * *

Time (_a week_) passes by. She goes on two dates with Finn and it's wonderful. Noah doesn't speak to her at all.

He is wholly wrapped around Quinn's little finger and she seems to be reciprocating, as well as catching Finn's eye with a coy smile. No one ever said she wasn't a multi-tasker.

* * *

Glee begins after a few weeks delay. They sit down and Rachel realizes that they spiral out from the center, where Quinn sits.

She starts drinking coffee in the morning instead of her protein shakes.

* * *

But somehow, she's losing weight.

* * *

The day Noah and Quinn make it Facebook official is the night Finn and Rachel have sex for the first time.

It is sloppy and uncomfortable and she wouldn't have it any other way. She shows up the next Monday on his arm and he is smiling down at her and that damn smirk slips right off of Quinn Fabray's perfect face.

And if the smirk slides off Noah's (_perfect_, _**perfect**_) face, too, she doesn't notice.

* * *

She is conditioned not to give any ammunition to Noah Puckerman for him to use against her later, but if she wasn't, she'd tell him that she misses him terribly.

* * *

She just-

_(She can't do this.)_

The feeling sidles in closer.

* * *

Rachel can't breathe properly anymore.

* * *

Mr. Schuester brings a new girl into glee one day, a Filipino transfer. Her voice is amazing. Like, Rachel/Mercedes amazing. Her name is Trisha. Finn tells her he hates her and she thinks that's very sweet to hate a girl just because she poses a threat.

(Secretly, she thinks its terrifying because that's exactly what Quinn did to her.)

Trisha is nice enough, but the girl keeps trying to steal her solos. Rachel suggests they do auditions for every solo just so they can know for sure who would be better at it.

Rachel kicks Trisha's ass up and down the choir room every single time and she backs down.

Rachel feels awake for the first time in a long time.

* * *

Quinn takes Trisha under her wing and the girls instantly bond. For some reason, this makes Santana decide that Rachel is her new favorite person. She is now walked to class by her and her blonde best friend, Brittany.

Those pornographic images start appearing on the bathroom wall, but something's different this time. It confuses Rachel a lot until she looks closely at the writing.

It's Mercedes'.

* * *

She just wants to go to sleep.

* * *

Mr. Schue wants to do an Aretha Franklin song. Mercedes nearly goes crazy when he hands it off to her, but then Rachel reminds him of the audition role. They all look at her like she's crazy, but seriously? She's the only one who's ever had to audition for a song.

So they duel and split the vote. (_She gets Finn_, _Santana_, _Brittany_, _Mike_, _and _-) She graciously concedes the song to Mercedes but the point's made.

Don't. Mess. With. Me.

(She gets Finn, San, Britt, Mike, and _Noah_.)

* * *

She stops him in the hall to thank him before fourth the next day. She hates that she has to wait for a time when Quinn is otherwise occupied.

She thanks him profusely but all she really wants to say is _I thought we were friends._

He sets his jaw and tells her to not think anything of it, okay, Berry?

* * *

She stares hard at the NyQuil in her medicine cabinet that evening.

_Maybe I won't, okay, Puck?_

* * *

A week later he is throwing a slushie at her face.

She turns and watches as Quinn rewards him with a kiss. She hardly notices Santana and Brittany wisking her away to a bathroom because she is too enraptured with the sound of her heart breaking.

Again.

(_It's so much louder than before)_

* * *

Noah was part of her glue. Then he threw a slushie in her face because Quinn Fabray told him to.

She misses Noah.

The feeling grows stronger.

* * *

Finn is wonderful. A wonderful boyfriend, a wonderful male lead, a wonderful everything. She doesn't deserve him, she knows that.

But Rachel's starting to suspect that she and Finn are an incomplete set. They're always leaning to the right, trying to fill in the air that used to inhabit the boy who now hangs off Quinn's right arm.

She loves Finn with all her little heart. He means the world to her and he always will, and she tells him so when she breaks up with him.

There's a look on his face she's only ever seen directed at two other people when he leans in close with a sneer and tells her he slept with Santana.

* * *

(_And oh, that sound gets louder)_

The thought crosses her mind that she will not make it to Christmas. She's being so dramatic.

_You're more of a drama queen than I am._

* * *

"_How do you think I'm gonna get along without you when you're gone?"_

* * *

She makes it to Christmas. She forgives San, and Mike and Matt walk her to class so Puck won't slushie her, and she makes it, dammit.

She has never yearned for a Christmas break so much in her whole entire high school career, but she yelps for joy when that final Friday bell rings.

She arrives home and finds Jesse St. James waiting on her doorstep.

* * *

Well, she'd always been kind of psychic.

* * *

Jesse's so sorry. Well, yes, she knew that. No, he's _really sorry._

She sighs into her hot chocolate and tries to meet his eyes. He is literally the most beautiful boy in the world to her, and he broke her like she was a toy.

Is he sorry? Of course he is. He loved her. He wanted to melt into her bones. He lovedadoredworshipped Rachel Berry and she loved him, too.

She forgives with a smile and he makes her promise to call him and promise to eat, and please, Rachel, promise to get some sleep.

* * *

She marks 'closure with Jesse' off a list she didn't know she had.

* * *

She doesn't feel any better, but she's not getting any worse.

She closes the cabinet door.

* * *

When she's slushied by five basketball boys, two hockey morons, and seven baseball drones the first day back, she corners Quinn in the bathroom because she's pissed off.

She didn't have time to get angry at Jesse, she was too heartbroken to get angry at Shelby and Noah and Finn. But Quinn? She has all the time in the world to tell off Quinn. It's one of her favorite past times.

Rachel just doesn't understand. Why is Quinn so mean again? She's still part of Homo Explosion. Mercedes is her best friend. She has Noah. Finn has even started talking to her again. She's a Cheerio. She has everything she ever wanted and more. Why is she so mean to Rachel?

Quinn just smirks. She needs someone to blame for what happened to her last year, because blaming herself hurts too much. And parts of it? The Finn part? Rachel will admit to acting poorly in that regard. But blaming her for Quinn's pregnancy, for Quinn's lost Captain position?

Plus, Quinn tacks on as she leaves Rachel still gaping at the space the blonde just stood, I just _hate_ you.

* * *

Rachel starts losing the solo competitions. Noah and Finn are no longer voting for her and Trisha's off the probationary period the club put her on at the beginning of the year. It's become an all out popularity contest.

Mercedes gets a gleam in her eyes and Rachel braces herself because she just got her heart put back together, and she doesn't have all the King's horses and all the King's men anymore.

* * *

They meet without her one Thursday.

On Friday Mr. Schue asks her to leave glee club with a sad look on his face and a heavy hand on her shoulder.

* * *

(_The rest of club believes)_

She hunches over, doing that silent scream that she always tried to fake **perfectly**.

(_that your attitude)_

But they were fair competitions!

_(is against what glee club is about)_

She doesn't understand. She just-

_(The choice was almost unanimous)_

_please_NoahFinnNoahFinnNoahFinn_please_NoahFinnSanBrittNoahFinnSan**_please_**_._

_(They said they'd be happy to let you back in)_

She loves that club. She loves her teammates, even when they talk about her when she's only two feet away, even when they call her awful names, even when they sleep with each other behind her back, even when they abandon her, even when they throw slushies in her face, even when-

(_If they feel your attitude has changed)_

She just _oh god _she just loved that club so much. It was the only thing-

* * *

The thought pulls her up. Makes her dry her eyes and look in the mirror and put on her showface _(it's broken)._ That thought is the single most terrifying thing that has ever crossed her mind.

* * *

Karofsky and his buddies throw her in the dumpster and pile sandbags on top. It is forty-two degrees outside. She bangs on the lid for two hours before a kindly janitor helps her out.

* * *

_It was the only thing keeping her alive._

* * *

She goes into the nurses' office one day in late February. Some puck head slammed her into a locker today and her shoulder is killing her.

Puck is in there for his daily nap. He's not asleep yet and he watches her out of the corner of his swollen eye.

He beat up Karofsky. For her. She doesn't even care, and that horrifies her.

She sits in the chair across from his bed while she waits for the nurse to retrieve some Advils. He asks what happened. She laughs. His concern is **_touching_**.

He doesn't ask again.

* * *

It's weird. She's not doing glee anymore. She's not doing ballet class or singing lessons either. But she's getting more and more tired.

She starts searching for a little more powerful in the house and comes across some prescription strength painkillers her dad took when he threw out his back last year. The bottle's nearly full.

* * *

Quinn breaks up with Noah just in time for Finn to take her to Junior Prom. Rachel gets a call from Brittany, loud music thumping in the background, to giggle about how Santana slapped her head Cheerio in the middle of the dance floor. Rachel tries to laugh along but is interrupted by a knock on her door.

Noah Puckerman is drunk on her doorstep.

* * *

She sleeps with Puck because pieces of her have always been in love with him. Because it's nice to be with someone who cares about her. Someone who feels as terrible as she does.

She grabs those pretty white pills because he abandons her when Quinn calls, crying about Finn. Because she loves people who know best how to break her heart. People who never love her back.

_She's so tired of it._

* * *

_She's so tired._

* * *

She wasn't shatterproof glass, regardless of what others may have thought. She broke. A lot. She was just very determined to not let anything break her stride.

She wasn't shatterproof glass. She just had some really strong glue.

* * *

JesseNoahFinnGlee was her glue. Then they left her to all her pretty pieces.

She'll miss them.

She swallows a pill.

* * *

She writes notes in between the pills. Little notes. For Noah. For Finn. Jesse. Her fathers. KurtArtieTinaMercedes. Santana and Brittany. Mike and Matt. Shelby. Mr. Schue. Quinn.

She downs another pill and looks at those notes.

She knew so many wonderful people.

* * *

She never writes 'I'm sorry.'

* * *

Dawn is breaking. The bottle's nearing empty. Her vision is swimming. Her breathing is slowing.

She's dying.

She's not alone, and that's good. Santana and Brittany are here, smoothing down her hair. Jesse is here, on a stage right before her. He's all lit up with spotlights and his hand is reaching for hers. Finn and Quinn are here, with Beth, and Finn's crying too hard for this to be real.

She misses him already.

Kurt is here, angry that she's leaving, not putting up a fight. Tina and Artie are helping her into a seat. Mike's smile has gone wrong. Matt's head is in his hands. Mr. Schue's hand is heavy on her shoulder. Mercedes is apologizing.

Noah is here. He's yelling. Begging her to stay. His arms feel so real under her knees and shoulders as he lifts her, sprinting towards the backstage darkness.

Rachel closes her eyes.


	2. All My Things To All My Friends

**I can't even begin to tell you how much your reviews meant to me. I am seriously not even going to try.**

**I know some of you would've probably loved to have seen Puck's or Finn's POV for this chapter but I chose Kurt on purpose. Mainly because Kurt, I believe, is the only one on the show who has even come close to the torture that Rachel endures. Also, in many other fics, Kurt is seen as Rachel's main antagonist, and I don't really believe he is. He's rude to her, of course, and he doesn't particularly care for her - but...I don't know. Kurt is very much an emotional person. He was the person I needed for the direct aftermath. Plus (sorry I'm rambling, but I really want to explain) he is just selfish enough that he won't be freaking out the whole time like Finn or Puck would. (on a very shallow level, my Kurt voice is _awful _and I wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible.)**

**I don't really like Kurt as a person. He's a whiny little bitch most of the time and I just can't sympathize. Doing this chapter helped me do just that for Kurt, and I really love this chapter, even though it doesn't even come close to last chapter. The first chapter was just one of those once-in-a-lifetime inspirations. But I knew this story wasn't over when I started writing it, and I knew I wanted Kurt to do the hospital scene almost immediately after I was finished. Just to warn, there is talking in this one, with quotation marks and everything. Kurt's a damn talker, man, I couldn't shut him up. Okay, here we go.**

* * *

When Finn shakes him awake that Sunday morning, Kurt already knows something has gone very, very wrong.

Chalk it up on a list of things he and Rachel Berry have in common that he should've paid attention to.

* * *

Kurt's never going to forgive himself.

* * *

Carole drives them to the hospital because his hands are pre-field goal jitters and Finn's crying so hard the Rover's frame is shaking.

The houses pass by in a blur and Kurt stares in wonderment at the dark windows. How can anybody be sleeping while Rachel Berry is dying?

* * *

_How could this happen? _

* * *

_**Oh, don't be naïve.**_

* * *

The hospital's a mess. Kids coming in with driving injuries and slight alcohol poisoning from the junior prom everywhere. Carole spots Puck sitting in a corner with Mr. Schue and lets out a choked little yell. Kurt understands. He's seen those two men in all levels of devastation - heartbroken, giving up their baby, divorcing the only woman they've ever loved.

Nothing compares to the look on their faces now.

Finn, whose balance has always been precarious at best, can barely walk now. Kurt has to bodily hold him up as they weave their way to Puck and Schue. He sits his almost-brother down in the chair next to his teacher while he takes the chair across from Puck.

Puck, whose hands are shaking. Puck, whose face is blanched white under the olive tone. Puck, whose eyes are wild, unseeing.

* * *

They're...they're never going to be the same, are they?

* * *

"Puck. _Puck_!"

"…what?"

"_Where is she?"_

"ICU. Stomach pump."

"Where are her dads?"

"Cincinnati."

"_How_ is she?"

* * *

Puck goes silent. His hands still, his eyes close. She wasn't breathing. _She wasn't breathing, Hummel._

* * *

_She was there, in my arms, and she was cold, okay, fucking cold, and she was fucking dead, okay, and, and…_

* * *

Puck shoots out of his seat and Kurt isn't surprised when Finn stumbles out of his seat to follow him down that long hallway with ICU emblazoned in letters that are too black. Too final.

After all, that is _their_ girl.

* * *

Rachel wasn't-_isn't_ his anything. Not even his friend.

The thing that kind of makes him want to die is the fact that _he_ was-_is_ hers.

* * *

Tina calls ten minutes later. She lives two houses down from Rachel and the noise from the policemen opening and slamming their doors has woken her up.

* * *

She is there in five minutes.

* * *

Kurt just needs a minute to stop and think. Its early. So early. Where's the coffee machine? _Where's Rachel?_ Is he still in his pajamas? _Is she going to be okay?_ What happened to Puck and Finn? _What happened to her last night?_ They've been gone so long.

* * *

_She's been gone so long._

* * *

God, this is getting ridiculous. He needs to think.

* * *

He and Tina start up the glee phone tree. First is Santana and Brittany,

(Santana (_I'll be there in ten)_ has this weird calmness in her voice near the end)(Brittany (_ohmyGod, ohmy__**God**__!)_, in contrast, grows more and more hysterical)

then Artie,

(it takes five minutes (_C'mon, T, stop playing around. This is __**Rachel.**) _for Tina to convince him that this is real)

Mike and Matt,

(And it's almost painful (_W-wh-what?) _when he hears the smile go out of Mike's voice)

And Mercedes.

(he chokes out _Rachel_ over the phone and Mercedes stutters out a breath before hanging up.)

There's only one member left of the glee family - the one they never really let Rachel belong to - but Kurt can't press the numbers on his phone.

* * *

_Quinn stands in front of them. "So. All those in favor of removing the solo-stealing succubus from our club?"_

_His hand shoots up without thinking twice._

_Quinn smiles._

* * *

Brittany arrives first. She asks where Rachel is without preamble. At the sight of Brittany's crumpled-standing frame, Kurt gets angry for the first time. So like Rachel to act so selfishly, without thinking about how her actions would affect others.

He points in the direction of the hall, one pink finger jutting out from four others blazing white in their knuckle-clenching fury.

How could Rachel _do_ this to them? Didn't she think at all about how this would make _them_ feel?

Brittany stalks off. Tina asks what wrong. He opens his mouth to explain when the screaming starts down the ICU hall.

* * *

"_What're you doing here?"_

He and Tina are running. Brittany's hands are on Puck's chest.

"_Why do you think you can be here?"_

He's never seen Brittany so angry. He's never seen Brittany angry, period. He moves to place a hand on her shoulder and she slaps it away, rounding on him.

"_You, too! You're not her friend, you hate her!"_

Her finger is jabbing into his chest down, each word, each jab like a stab to his heart.

"_I'm her friend!"_

Jab.

"_I'm her friend!"_

Brittany's voice starts to shake. Her lip start to tremble. The finger poking at his chest closes into a fist that drops to her side, shaking.

"I'm_ her friend. _I'm…her…"

Tan arms wind around the blonde's waist and Santana's there, smoothing Brittany's hair as the taller girl starts to sob.

"I'm…her…and she's…mine…and…and…"

A nurse, tall and stern, asks them to move to the waiting room, please.

* * *

Finn stays. He just won't leave the door to Room 135. Puck attempts to do the same, but acquiesces when Brittany grows hysterical again.

Mike, Mercedes, and Artie are waiting for them. Matt's coming from out of town, Mike supplies when Santana asks.

No one asks about Quinn.

* * *

Three hours later, when Brittany's sobs have subsided but Mercedes' have finally begun, when Santana has already excused herself and come back with bloodshot eyes, when Artie's hands on his wheels have gone so white a nurse stops to help him, when Matt has arrived, when Tina finally takes her eyes off of the hallway, Kurt's dad walks in with the fathers Berry.

* * *

The light is completely gone from their eyes.

* * *

Kurt is _never_ going to forgive himself.

* * *

The dads ask Finn to get away from their daughter as nicely as they possibly can.

* * *

They gather the glee club around them. Kurt's dad's hand is supremely heavy on his shoulder as the two parents stand together before them with barely suppressed tears, fiddling with scraps of papers in their hands.

"These are for you guys. She wrote them. For you. There not very coherent, sometimes, because she had already started…but…this one, right here is for…Brittany?"

Brittany stands and retrieves her note. She stares at it a long moment before turning away and walking to the furthest possible chair in the waiting room.

And so it goes. The fathers squint and blink back tears as they call names (they shudder to a stop when they come across their own). Kurt stands on numb legs to retrieve his, staring blindly down at his own name in Rachel's waving scrawl.

Finn's is the longest. Mercedes' is the shortest. Puck refuses to take his.

* * *

_That's admitting defeat. Rachel would fucking hate that._

* * *

Deep breath. Look around. Don't crush the paper.

Santana's hand is white-knuckled over her mouth. Artie's eyes are reading one line over and over. Matt's note is crumpled in the fist that the black boy is whispering prayers into. Mercedes' hands are over her ears, fighting off words only she can hear. Brittany, so far away, is destroyed. Everything is destroyed.

Burt leans in. Tells him he doesn't have to read it if he doesn't want to.

Deep breath. Look down. First line.

* * *

_Kurt. You probably would've talked me out of this. If you cared. Which you don't. Never did. I don't know why you hated me. You were the one I always thought would understand me the best. But you don't. Never did._

_I really hate that solo version of Defying Gravity, did you know that? It lacks the passion of the original. I always wanted to sing it with you, sing it with anyone. Cause that's what the song's about, really. Elphaba didn't want to leave Glinda behind. I didn't want to leave you, either._

_Which I suppose I'm doing now._

_Well I can go, and you can stay. 'I hope your happy. Now that you're choosing this.' I really do hope your happy in the end, Kurt._

_I would tell you not to feel bad, but I don't want to lie here, so close to. To here. Wherever it is. I hope you feel horrible. I hope this haunts you. I hope you remember, Glinda._

_Look towards the western sky!_

* * *

The lines are blurring right before his very eyes. He is aware of Mercedes coming to sit beside him. She holds his hand for the first time since Quinn Fabray moved into her house. He doesn't realize how much he missed that smooth mocha reassurance until he is doubled over, crying into her lap.

* * *

Rachel Berry stabilizes. Rachel Berry _tried to commit suicide_. Rachel Berry breathes on her own. Rachel Berry wrote _fifteen _suicide notes.

* * *

He sits down next to her fathers.

"I'm Kurt. Rachel probably complained about me. More than once."

The fathers shake their head. Rachel just said he was very talented. Kurt's heart seizes.

"Well, she should've. Because I'm part of the reason Rachel's in there, sirs."

His father tries to pull him back, but Kurt leans further forward. "I need you to understand. I should've been her best friend. She…Rachel's bossy and abrasive and a little self-centered, and I'm sorry I'm saying this out loud when she's…just lying there, but…"

The others are staring at him now, straining forward to catch every word, to hear their own sins fall from someone else's lips.

"We were-are a lot alike, Rachel and me. She's so determined, you know, and I am too, and I just hated her so much because she was so unafraid to be whoever she wanted to be and I wasn't, I was terrified-"

One of her fathers, the white one with wire rims, looks very concerned for Kurt. The other, a formidable black one, has a look caught between anger and pity.

"_I'm so sorry. _I'm saying it to you, sirs, because I can't say it her-yet. But I just-do you understand? _**I**__ was those pills_. I was the pills. And I'm so sorry-"

He breaks off because that's all he can manage. He would give anything in the world to hear Rachel tell him it's alright. The room falls deathly quiet as the rest of the kids stare at him and the fathers, waiting for a reaction, any reaction.

Then - a step forward to his far left. A hand tucking blonde hair behind an ear. Brittany walks until she is right in front of the smaller father and then just - falls to her knees. Santana and Mike surge forward, but Brittany steadies herself, grabbing onto the man's hands.

"I'm Brittany," she breathes out. "You met me a coupla times when me and San - this is San, but that's Mike - we came over to your house. Rachel's my friend. I tried really hard to protect her, sir, and I'm really sorry I couldn't do it right."

The dad is shaking his head, mouth agape, but Santana is already talking.

"I'm Santana. I did really awful things to your daughter and my only excuse is that I relish being a bitch, which isn't really one. I'm sorry."

"I'm Tina…." "I'm Artie…." "I'm Finn, but you knew that…" "Mercedes, it's…nice to meet you…" "I'm sorry." "I'm sorry." _**"I'm so so sorry."**_

They speak, one by one, until it's down to Puck, who has not spoke since he left Rachel's doorway. He notices all eyes on him and opens his mouth to speak after a very long moment, but a doctor is bustling in, to tell them that Rachel Berry is coming around.

* * *

He stills hears Puck's words over everyone's relieved chattering.

_"You might as well arrest me for murder."_


	3. Too Late To Try

******Hey, guys. Thank you so so much for the reviews and for all your insight on Kurt. It was wonderful.**

**I've got to be honest. I hate this chapter. And it is brutally short, and I'm sorry about that. But I needed a change for a bit. Rachel and Kurt are very emotional creatures - I wanted someone with a heart of steel. I wanted Santana Lopez. In my story, Santana sought Rachel out after Quinn made Trisha her best friend, and this chapter will kind of explain that. But I was in the wrong place to write emotional stuff. I needed to write this chapter to go on. So if you don't like it, feel free to tell me. There are certain bits I love to pieces and certain parts I really really don't, but I hope you will like it anyway.**

**BTW, there's a line near the end "Santana's strong and she can take..." That's not me. That's paraphrasing something Courtney Love said after the 1994 suicide of her husband Kurt Cobain (if you're one of the conspiracy people, please don't tell me.) I found it to be very Santana-appropriate.**

* * *

Santana's not going to cry.

* * *

Santana Lopez does not fucking cry, okay?

* * *

_Except…except when…_

* * *

Oh, _hell_ no. Santana's not down for this at _all_. This internalizing bullshit? Not her fucking scene. She just needs to go somewhere nice and quiet so she can scream and scream and nobody say nothing about it cause _Jesus Christ, Rachel Berry tried to commit suicide _and everything's a mess. Everyone's all huddled in their little balls, sucking on their thumbs about how bad they treated Rachel.

_So nice of you to realize now, fuckers._

* * *

Santana's knows her sin, okay? She knows what she did and that shit was ridiculous, but blaming herself isn't gonna fix Rachel.

* * *

_Help._ Not fix, alright, _help. _Treating Rachel like a toy was what got her in the mess in the first place. Treating Rachel like she was just something to amuse the Cheerios, like she had removable bits that could be placed back with no harm done was what got Rachel _in the fucking hospital bed!_

* * *

…So, she's blaming herself. That's okay, that's natural, a girl she used to torment tried to make herself go away forever, it's fucking _okay_ to blame her _own_ actions, her own words. It's okay, it's okay-

_Godammit. _It's never going to be okay_._

* * *

Santana kind of just wants to burst into tears.

* * *

But no amount of tears is gonna fix-_help_ Rachel. San knows she's got to be strong now, stronger than ever. For Rachel, for Brittany, for Puck. These people matter to her, okay? They mean something (_they mean the world)_ and Santana's a fighter. She's not giving up on them until she's so beaten she can't breathe.

And she's still breathing.

* * *

_(But how do you hold on to someone when all they're trying to do is let go?)_

* * *

Brittany is chattering excitedly in her ear, so happy that Rachel's okay. Rachel's dad, the small one who might be named Hiram, is nodding at her encouragingly - partly because with Brittany around, no way Rache won't be okay.

The doctor's motioning for the dads to come with them and they do, the small one clapping Kurt (who's _still_ crying like he has any right to) on the shoulder before disappearing down the hall. The tall one who might be Leroy pauses, though, and looks back.

"We're going to tell Rachel you're here. If she doesn't want to see you, you're gone. Understand?"

Santana doesn't even bother to nod, and she notices Puck doesn't either. Well, yeah. Fuck that noise. Rachel Berry is her friend, okay, and she's not gonna fucking leave her here in a cold hospital when she just tried to commit suicide.

She's gonna take care of her. Like she should've before.

* * *

She goes to sit next to Puck because someone has. The boy is clearly losing his damn mind. She doesn't say anything. She doesn't have to; this is Puck. She just reaches out and takes his hand.

* * *

Well, except:

"You shouldn't be here, you know."

"Fuck you, San, I fucking found her."

* * *

And it goes without saying that he's not ever losing her again.

* * *

The waiting room falls into silence and Santana feels it creeping up again. She doesn't deal well with silence. She thinks too much (_fucking feels too much_).

So her grip on Puck's hand gets tighter and her breathing seizes up. Even though Rachel's okay, she's never going to be _okay_, not for real, at least. She wanted to go, she needed to die. Santana can't fucking get that, okay? She doesn't understand that at all.

What she does get is that she was part of the problem. She only became Rachel's friend because she was mad that Quinn was trying to replace her with Trisha. She and Quinn weren't best friends or anything, but no one fucking replaces Santana Lopez, alright? She's one-of-a-kind, special, she's motherfucking unique.

Apparently not special enough to make Rachel stay.

* * *

_Santana. I know you're strong enough to deal with all of this, so promise to watch out for Brittany for me, alright? I don't think she's going to understand why I did this._

_The bottles almost empty, San. I can barely write anymore. I was trying to save yours for last. I don't know why. _

_I don't know a lot of things, San. Please help me._

_Maybe I don't want to do this. Maybe I still want to grow up and become a Broadway star, you know?_

_But I don't think so. Thinking about the future just wears me out. I'm so sleepy, Santana. I wish you were here. With Brittany. Like when you two cleaned me off in the bathroom after Noah slushied me. You told me it was going to be alright._

_What do you think now, San? Is it going to be alright?_

* * *

No, Rache. Never again.

* * *

Puck doesn't even notice because he's squeezing back just as hard. She glances over at him. His eyes are glassy, staring at something she can't see and he grits out "You'll stay with me?'

Santana doesn't think he's talking to her.

* * *

Don't get her wrong, alright? She knows what Puck did is fucked up. She saw the look on Rachel's face the day he started throwing slushies again. (She'd say she doesn't ever want to see again, but it's here, right now, on the boy's sitting next to her.) She knows that Puck barely even deserves to be here. But he's her best friend, okay? She's known him forever, she knew him when he let everyone call him Noah. He makes up the parts of her that Brittany doesn't.

She doesn't fucking exists without Noah Puckerman.

So maybe he shouldn't be here, but Santana's pretty damn selfish, and she needs him to be here anyway.

So they sit like that. Hand in hand. She stares at him, he stares at the wall. Finn comes to sit on his other side and holds his wrist.

* * *

She feels like they're trying to hold Puck down. Or maybe just hold him together.

* * *

The screaming in her head has almost made it out when Rachel's dads come back to the waiting room. Santana feels the almost imperceptible shift in Puck that makes her and Finn let go and he is up and standing. The taller dad, Leroy, gives him the scariest fuck-you look San's ever seen on a father.

"Rachel," the Hiram-dad starts. He says her name like a fucking prayer and it reminds Santana to slap Rachel for doing this to her fathers - years from now, when it'll be appropriate. "Rachel is doing quite well. Mr. Puckerman managed to get her here in the nick of time. The doctors expect a full recovery."

And that, right there, is all the guy can manage. He mouths the next words but Santana already knows they aren't coming out. Leroy steps forward in his place, his arm around the smaller man's waist.

"We informed Rachel that you all were here. She-" He stops and his gaze turns hard, blaming, judging. "She didn't want to see any of you at first, which I'm _quite certain _you understand. After hearing you'd been here since six in the morning, though, she's changed her mind. She said she would love to see Santana and Brittany."

Vaguely she's aware of Finn staring at her, of every eye on Brittany's smile. None of that fucking matters, not now, not when Rachel's waiting just down the hall for San to fix-_help. _

She so focused on Rachel that she doesn't even catch Puck when all the fight left in him goes. He is just boom-down there beside her, his head in his hands, and Noah Puckerman is crying.

* * *

Brittany holds out a fist with the pinky outstretched and Santana intertwines her own with it. Brittany lifts her up and away from Puck, up and away from the waiting room with that silence that was fucking killing her, towards Rachel.

Behind her, Leroy tells the rest of the group to leave.

* * *

Her steps are in sync with Brittany's, as they always are. They're slow and deliberate, and usually that's because no one makes Santana Lopez rush.

Today it's because her friend tried to kill herself, and Santana Lopez is scared.

* * *

Hiram's warning is a buzz in her ears as the door opens.

* * *

Straps.

* * *

Tubes.

* * *

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

* * *

Santana is tough and she can take anything. But she can't take _this_.

* * *

Rachel Berry's smile is only a little broken as she strains a hand forward under the straps holding her down and breathes out Santana's name.


	4. Never Plugged In At All

**Hello! Sorry it's taken so long to update, but I actually have a fairly decent explanation. I was in a pretty horrific car wreck about two weeks ago and broke my arm. Then, a week into the healing, it resnapped.**

**So that's part of the reason this chapter is so short. The other part is that it's Brittany, and we've already got a fair bit of her feelings in the past chapters with Kurt and San.**

**I'm going to start moving away away from the snapshot writing I've been using to show how what's happened is steadily starting to sink it, so people will begin thinking in complete thoughts and stuff. The next chapter should be up very shortly (Shelby) to make up for my long abscence.**

* * *

When he called this morning, Kurt tried to say it all in short words. But Brittany's not stupid. She knows what suicide is. She knows what Rachel has done to herself.

It's here right in front of her.

* * *

"Santana…"

But Santana is backing up, now, her back hitting the door. Brittany sees the smile slip off Rachel's face and quickly steps forward to take her hand, the hand that's pushing against those big black straps holding her arms down.

It takes a moment for Brittany to figure them out, those straps, but then it clicks and she doesn't understand why Santana moved away. Brittany needs to get closer, needs to hold on to Rachel and never let go.

If she holds tight enough, Rachel can't slip away.

* * *

"Hi, Rachel."

"Brittany. You look tired. You've been here a long time." It's not a question.

"Well, yeah, R. You were in the hospital. Had to make sure you were okay." A look skitters across Rachel's face.

"_I was going to be."_ The words are a hiss and Brittany could recognize that shouldn't-have-said-that look anywhere.

* * *

Brittany has to stop for a moment. Just, one second, please. Because she's holding on to Rachel's hand, and Rachel's alive, and talking - wanted to see her, and that's amazing. But. _**But.**_

* * *

Brittany can feel her bottom lip quiver. _She's not going to cry, she won't freaking cry._ But her eyes are squinting around her tears and her lips are wobbling and her breaths are too shallow and Rachel's face looks like its falling apart from the inside when she looks away.

* * *

She sniffs loudly. Santana takes her cue and finally approaches and attaches a hand to Rachel's ankle (also strapped down-_she's gonna be sick_). The need to feel Rachel's warm skin beneath her fingertips is the one thing that Brittany's understood since Kurt's call this morning.

"You look like shit," Santana says idly. Rachel's eyes slide down to San's lowered gaze and then away. It's a slow look, a look that Brittany wants to call cold because _cold_ is something, at least, but there is nothing.

"I didn't sleep as long as I wanted to."

Brittany gapes at her. "Rachel-"

"Fuck. You." Santana whispers harshly. "You don't get to say shit like that, Rachel. Not to us. Not when you were gonna just leave us here with nothing but a stupid little note that you don't even say sorry in."

Rachel goes from crumpled to hard in like, two seconds. "I wasn't sorry. I still am completely not sorry."

Santana's hand is wrapped around Rachel's leg, squeezing, but Rachel shows no signs of pain. San blinks hard and Brittany wants to reach out because Santana's tough and she can take anything, but she can't take _this_.

"And why the fuck not?" And the shakes in her voice is clear now. "Why didn't you think about us, huh? We're your friends, okay, Rachel? We're your friends, and friends are a fucking family, okay, they don't leave people behind. I'm supposed to take care of you, and I can't fucking do that if you try to go away!"

The room goes quiet except for the _beep, beep, beep _of Rachel still-beating-thank-God heart. Brittany doesn't want to look at Rachel cause she's afraid there's gonna be nothing there and she can't look at Santana because San would hate it if Brittany saw her cry. She stares at the clock on the wall. She stares.

* * *

_Turn back. Turn back. Turn back._

* * *

It doesn't work. It'll never work. Nothing will ever make this _not happen._ Brittany can wish upon a clock all she wants, but the tubes and the straps and the dead things in Rachel's eyes - that's her reality now.

* * *

The silence is so heavy. The silence is so loud in her head that she wants to see just how quiet her screams would be in comparison.

But she won't. She won't scream or cry anymore - Brittany refuses to be too weak to handle this. Because San is right - Rachel is family, and family doesn't abandon family. She looks down at her, grips her hand that much tighter. "You're gonna stay with us. Okay, Rache? No more leaving, you promise?"

Rachel looks down at their joined hands. She was always such an open book before, but now everything is closed off. It's like a part of her is dead. And maybe it is. Maybe Rachel's been more successful than she thought.

"If you stay with us, we'll stay with you." It's the most she can do now. She didn't protect Rachel the first time. But that Rachel _is_ dead now. The pills won. And it makes Brittany feel like her heart is on fire, it makes her want to cry, but she can't. She's got to be strong for this Rachel.

She'll get it right this time.

* * *

_Brittany. Don't be sad, okay? I'm much better now. I wasn't in any pain, I was okay, I swear._

_I hope the angels look like you - you in the silly video I made, remember? That would be - that would be wonderful. I hope they dance like you as well. If I could, I'd take you with me, but you're not like me, Brittany. I don't think you'd ever want to go._

_Don't be sad. Please. I can't bear the thought. You be good, okay? Be safe and whole and happy. I'll miss you so much. Take care of Santana. _

_I wish you were here. I wish you were here._

* * *

Once, there was a girl that Brittany loved. And then one day, there wasn't.

* * *

"I got so tired." Rachel is still looking at their joined hands when she says this. Santana leans forward to stack hers on top of Brittany and Rachel's face twists into the saddest expression Brittany's ever seen. "I was so tired. Everything was so hard. Too hard."

"But we're here," Brittany insists. "When things are too hard, we're here."

Rachel nods a little. Santana sniffs and laughs. "San and B, blocking your escape routes since 2010." And then, "I'm sorry, Rachel."

Rachel finally looks up. Her eyes are still dead, and she still doesn't smile, but Brittany makes it okay for now when Rachel opens her mouth.

"If you stay, I'll stay."

* * *

Brittany barely makes it three feet out of the door when her fingers start blindly scratching at the wall because she cannot hold herself up under the weight of her tears. She promised herself, she _promised_ she wouldn't cry, but her friend is dead. Her heart beats and her voice speaks and her eyes blink but her heart and her voice and her eyes are not Rachel's. Rachel's voice says she'll stay but _Rachel_ is gone.

Brittany can't do this. She can't, but she's going to. She's going to save Rachel this time. She should've before, she should've been better. But she wasn't and her friend died and maybe letting Brittany rebuild the pieces of Rachel that stayed behind in her deadeyes body is God's way of getting Brittany's apology to her friend, wherever she went.

_If I stay, she'll stay._ She will. She promised. She won't leave her.

Brittany breaths in and out and blindly sticks out her pinky. Santana's immediately wraps around it and Brittany does her best to smile at her. "Okay?"

Santana nods so jerkily that her tears scatter in the air around her. "Okay."

* * *

(Maybe the dead things in Rachel's eyes are her demons, and maybe her demons are the people in those notes, but Brittany can't think about that too hard or too much. None of that can matter anymore. For once, _Rachel_ is what's important.)

* * *

Quinn Fabray is standing in the middle of the waiting room.

She's staring down at a piece of paper. Santana speeds up and they come to a stop right in front of her. Santana cocks her head like she always does before a fight, opens her mouth, then stops. She's staring at Quinn's paper as well. Brittany looks at the large capital letters that Rachel must have retraced over and over and feels almost sick.

**_I HATE YOU TOO._**


	5. Please Tell Mom This Is Not Her Fault

**As promised, here is Shelby. A few notes: I love the idea that Rachel can hate her mother but still think of Beth as her little sister (it's the chief reason Beth appears in the first chapter at the end). Also, the 'not yet' at the end of Shelby's note is from Wicked.**

* * *

The phone rings on a Sunday afternoon and Beth starts crying.

Shelby picks it up, waving plastic car keys in front of her adopted daughter's face to distract her, and shouts her hello into the receiver.

...The phone hits the floor with a loud crack. Beth stops crying to stare at it in wonder.

* * *

She cannot drive her car fast enough. The higher her speedometer climbs, the slower her daughter's heartbeat gets. The Berrys can reassure her of Rachel's stability all they want, but its not real until she can see her, touch her, hear her.

Nothing is real unless Rachel is.

* * *

She makes a forty-five minute drive in thirty and for all that rushing, Shelby slows to a halt before entering Lima Medical. A blonde that has her daughter's eyes is yelling at a vaguely familiar Latina. Quinn spots Shelby and drops her guard and in that moment the other girl slaps her hard. The crack reverberates through Shelby's entire body and she's shivering all of the sudden, losing focus on the retreating Quinn and pursuing brunette and just shivering, just staring into the hospital. Going in there means that it's true, it turns Rachel's suicide into a girl in a hospital bed with her cheekbones. That is her daughter in there, her daughter that tried to kill herself.

She enters slowly through the sliding doors. Hiram Berry is there waiting for her. He seems to have aged a decade in a morning.

Just another pound of guilt added to Shelby's world on her shoulders.

* * *

He assures her again that Rachel's doing fine, that she's completely stable. He leads her into a corner of the waiting room where Noah Puckerman and Finn Hudson have set up shop with Leroy Berry. Hiram explains that the others were here, but most of them had to leave after Santana Lopez had it out with Quinn Fabray.

She gazes at Puck and Finn, wondering why they stayed. Hiram says, a tone in his voice that can't decide if it's pitying or furious "They refuse to leave without her."

And a snide voice in her head, the voice that traded Rachel for a shiny new baby, sneers.

_Why? It's not like she did the same for us._

_

* * *

_

"When can I see her?"

Hiram motions for her sit across from him as he takes the seat next to his husband. She slumps into her chair and waits, but the answer never comes.

"Is she awake?"

The two look at each other an back and her. Puckerman chuckles darkly under his breath.

"We'll have to ask her," Hiram says gently. "If she doesn't want to see you, she doesn't have to."

Shelby gapes a little. She drove all this way, left her baby with a neighbor, just to be told it's Rachel's decision. Why should anything be Rachel's decision now, when the last one she made was to kill herself? "But I'm her mother."

"Yeah, but she's not really your daughter, huh?" the Puckerman kid mumbles, not even sparing her a glance. "Nope. You didn't want her. Took mine instead."

"You gave her up," Shelby returns hotly. Puck just smirks at her, his expression not matching his sad, ruined hazel eyes.

"If you love her, you'll wait."

Finn snorts. "Unless you're Santana. Then you verbally destroy blondes."

Puck nods and they fist bump, but every motion is sluggish, every grin is strained, and Shelby just feels horrible for them. How long have they been waiting? How much do they love her? Puck catches her staring and his grin twist down.

"Don't you dare feel sorry for me," he snarls, his features coming alive briefly before re-settling into the sad, ruined mask. "Just don't, alright?"

Finn taps his arm, but the other boy just shakes his head, and Finn sinks down with him into their shared little pain-daze, staring down the ICU hall.

* * *

The worst part is, Shelby isn't sure. She's Rachel's mother, and she's not sure she can wait.

* * *

Leroy goes to ask Rachel after checking with the nurse that she still awake, and Shelby is facing Hiram. Such a small man, smaller now is his worry, shoulders hunched like he's prepared for the fatal blow. Tears spring to her eyes when he tries to smile at her. She can't smile back. For all his smallness, he's so much stronger than her.

He says 'oh' softly to himself and shifts to pull out two slips of paper from his back pocket. He hands one over to her. "She wrote this for you. Before she lost consciousness. If you don't want to read it, you don't have to, but its only right that you should have it."

She doesn't know when her hands started shaking, but Shelby misses the paper the first time she reaches for it. She's not sure she wants to read it, but her eyes are already drinking in the words before her brain says no.

* * *

_Shelby. Mother. Whatever you've decided you are to me. To me you are Mom. You have always been there, even when I had no face or name to place to you. I wanted you even if you didn't want me. Not that my dads aren't wonderful. They just aren't a mother._

_And maybe you aren't either. Certainly not to me. I think life was easier, I think I didn't hurt so much when you were just this nameless faceless entity. You didn't want me then, or now, and you never will. You traded up, and I can't forgive you. What was so wrong with me? I'm a good person._

_I should've had a better life than this._

_If you want to make it up to me, you'll tell Beth about her big sister Rachel. Tell her I was amazing and beautiful and strong. Tell her I loved her, and that I had to go away for awhile. And if she ever asks if I'm coming back, you know what to say._

_Not yet.'_

_

* * *

_

What was it that Latina was screaming at Quinn?

_You had no right to just walk in there and cry Godammit like she fucking means something to you when your name is probably on half the pills they pumped out of her!"_

_

* * *

_

If Quinn's got one half, she's got the other.

* * *

She dries her eyes on the back of her hand because parts of her are a horrible person and she refuses to let Hiram see her cry. Parts of her are screaming at him because how could he let this happen to her daughter? She left Rachel with them because (_they paid for her_) she thought they could take care of her. This wouldn't have happened if she had been there.

And then with a sickening twist in her heart she realized it happened _because _she had been there.

"That other one," she whispers, and the world is back in focus and Hiram looks up. "It's for Jesse, isn't it?"

Puck and Finn's heads snap up, almost comically fast, eyes zeroed in on the final scrap of paper in the older man's hands. Hiram nods.

"What's it say?" the Finn kid blurts out. He has the decency to look ashamed and looks away. Puck eyes the note one more time, very clearly mutters "Egg-cracking douche bag" and the retrains his eyes on the ICU hallway.

"I should probably call him." And she should. Jesse has the right to know. He loved Rachel, she knows he did. She was his own personal Juliet.

* * *

Juliet died in the end.

* * *

Leroy appears at her shoulder ten minutes later and tells her heavily that Rachel will see her. For some reason, Shelby looks to the two boys when he tells her. When a light goes out in Finn Hudson's eyes, she wishes she didn't.

They tell her the room number but don't walk her there. She concentrates hard on putting one foot in front of the other. She must be strong. She can't upset Rachel by blubbering all over the place. If nothing else, she has to give a good report to Jesse if _(when)_ she calls him.

She knocks softly and opens the door. Her daughter is staring right at her with eyes that match hers except for all that emptiness. For a moment, Shelby thinks (_wants, needs)_ she's dreaming. This can't be Rachel. This is a nightmare, this isn't real.

"Shelby."

She wakes up.

* * *

"Rachel, honey," she manages, closing the door behind her. "How are you?"

Rachel stares at her for a moment, then bangs her wrists up into her restraints for effect. "I'm _fine._"

Shelby nods and moves to sit cautiously in the chair beside Rachel's bed. There is utter silence for a moment, then Rachel slides her eyes _(she looks like a doll, with dead doll eyes. China doll. Makes sense. So damn fragile) _over to hers. "No Beth?"

"I left her with a sitter." Her voice sounds so strange. Breathless. Like the rest of her. Not caught up yet.

Rachel looks at the ceiling. "That's a shame. I would've liked to see her."

_Right. I'm going to bring my baby to see her suicidal not-sister in the hospital._ "I'm sorry."

Rachel shrugs as best she can. "I probably would've scared her." Then, a moment later: "I bet she's beautiful."

"She is."

"You'll…" Rachel's gaze slithers back to her face. "You'll raise her to be like that on the inside, right? Neither of her parents exactly have the virtue." Shelby is a little dumbfounded. How often does Rachel think about Beth? How much does her not-sister mean to her, really?

_Enough to make her stay?_

"I will," Shelby promises. "You can come see her, when you get out of the hospital."

A ghost of a smile flits over Rachel's face. "That would be lovely."

The silence creeps in under the door and Shelby takes the time to just stare at her daughter. They really do look incredibly alike, on the outside. Shelby knows that inside she looks just like Leroy and Hiram.

She's beautiful, she truly is. Shelby feels that spark of pride she always feels around Rachel flare up for a moment then die away. She didn't help make Rachel beautiful.

"Rachel," she whispers. "What - what happened-"

"The doctors told me not to exert myself," Rachel cuts her off loudly. "For my sake, do not finish that question. I'm not explaining myself to you."

She spits out the last two words at Shelby, but her eyes are too busy tracing the lines on the ceiling. Shelby bows her head onto Rachel's restrained hand. Is the weight on her shoulders right now what Rachel had to live with every day? Because, God, this is too much. It's too much for anyone. Shelby just wants to crawl in the hospital bed with Rachel so they can take a nice long nap together, so they don't have to face this anymore.

* * *

"Life is…hard," she breathes into her daughter's palm.

Rachel's hand fists. "And then you die."

* * *

Shelby looks up. "I'm sorry. You have know I'm sorry."

Rachel stares at her. Dissects her. Her gaze is so dark, like no light goes in and no light will ever come out again. "Do you even know what you're sorry for?"

"I'm sorry this happened to you. I'm sorry life was so hard." Rachel shakes her head and goes back to counting the ceiling tiles. Shelby tries again. Tries the truth for once. "I'm sorry I rejected you and then adopted Quinn's baby. I can't imagine how that made you feel."

Rachel's eyes do not leave the ceiling, but there's something building in them now, some fleeting look.

"Tired," she whispers. "It made me feel tired."

* * *

Shelby gets no more out of her daughter, and frankly, they're both exhausted now. She stands and kisses Rachel on the forehead, trying not to flinch when Rachel stiffens.

She makes it to the door and then turns. "Maybe you could talk to those boys outside. Maybe you shouldn't be alone."

Shock skitters across Rachel's face. "They're still here?"

Shelby nods and opens the door. The light from the hallway shines on Rachel's face, frowning at something only she can see. Shelby nods again, to herself, stepping out. "I love you, Rachel."

Before she shuts the door, she hears a little sob and "No, you don't."

* * *

She lays a hand on Leroy's shoulder. "Thank you."

The four of them stare at her. Leroy rumbles in his deep, sad voice "We didn't do anything."

"You let me be here," Shelby says simply. "When I haven't been here for the past sixteen years. Thank you."

Leroy still looks confused and, as usually when facing her, vaguely suspicious, but he nods slowly. "You're her mother," Hiram adds. Shelby looks down at her hands, twisting them together, trying out this truth spiel again.

"No, I'm not." Hiram blinks at her and she sighs. "She'll call me. She mentioned seeing Beth."

"Beth…" Leroy says slowly, shaking his head.

"My daughter. Her sister, if she wants," Shelby explains. To the far left, Puck shifts uncomfortably at the implications.

"Well," Hiram says, blinking at his partner now. "Well, sure. If she wants." Shelby smiles for the first time today.

"If she wants."

Hiram brightens. "If it makes her happy, maybe Akron would be the better place to go, don't you think, Leroy?"

The silence in Rachel's room explodes into the waiting room at that moment. Puck and Finn stiffen and Shelby feels her breath catch.

"Go?" Finn whispers harshly. The two dads stare at him. Shelby feels hurried goodbyes flying out of her mouth and leaves.

But not quickly enough to see the light in those eyes completely go out.

* * *

Quinn Fabray is sitting on the hood of her car.

Shelby splutters out a hello and Quinn raises her face from her folded-up legs. Her face is tear-streaked and pale and she might be the prettiest crier Shelby's ever seen.

The blonde hops off the car and takes a step towards Shelby before stopping herself. "You saw her? Is she alright?"

Closer now, Shelby can make out the faint outline of four fingers on Quinn's left cheek. That Santana girl must have hit her pretty hard. She wonders what Quinn did to deserve it. "She's fine, Quinn."

She's pulling out her car keys and making her way to the car door when Quinn's hand on her arm stops her. She almost pulls away but the hand on her arm is trembling violently.

"Quinn, are you…" she turns and no, Quinn is not alright. She's staring at Shelby and her eyes are almost as gone as Rachel's. Her face is as white as a sheep and her lip is bloody from where she must have been biting it. And she's shaking so hard. "Quinn!"

"I didn't mean to kill her."

The words slip out in a whisper and Shelby turns fully towards Quinn, grabbing her arms and rubbing. "She's fine. She's not dead, Quinn. She's fine."

Quinn shakes her head. "You have to believe me. I didn't mean it!" She bits into her lip and her teeth come out bloody and Shelby is genuinely frightened for her. "I just - she took everything from me, I just wanted her to go away!"

Coldness seeps into Shelby's bones them, blooming from where her hands grip Quinn. She drops them like the girl burns. The implications of that statement are too great, too much for Shelby right now. "Go away?"

"No!" Quinn seems to realize she's made a mistake. "Just - leave me alone. Me and Finn. So we could be in love again."

On some level, Shelby feels immensely sorry for Quinn. The girl's been through the ringer more than once and tried to come out stronger every time. But on another level - the most important one - she tried to make Rachel go away. Beth's mother.

"Quinn." Her voice is hard. She used to win national championships with this voice. "Rachel is not dead. You did not kill her. Now that you know that, you need to stay the hell away from my daughter."

Quinn's mouth opens and her eyes flood with tears, but Shelby is already opening the door and swinging herself into her car. She hears Quinn yell garbled apologies through the window and turns the key in the ignition.

She drives off without looking back.

* * *

She pays the sitter more than she should, just wanting to be alone with Beth. She hugs the eight-month-old to her as tight as she can and whispers her love into the wisps of hair adorning her daughter's head.

She'll never leave her. Never.

"Aren't you excited, Beth? You're gonna see your big sister Rachel soon!" she coos as she picks up the phone.

She still knows Jesse St. James' phone number by heart.


	6. Sixteen Just Held Such Better Days

**You know what sucks about breaking an arm? You get behind on everything. **

**This is Puck's chapter, and OH MY GOD. I couldn't even cover half of the emotions I want to portray in him in this chapter. It was too much. It was also tons of fun, because the Puck in my head is all run-ons and curses and weird syntax. But the emotional expanse of Puck was difficult, to say the very least. Mostly because, and lets get this out of the way now, I am a die-hard Puckleberry and Tired!Rachel loves him. Not to say her feelings for Finn are any shallower, but this Puck's chapter...I don't know what I'm saying. Just read it.**

_Rachel had opened her front door slowly, peeking out from behind him. Puck was so drunk her eyes were fucking swimming. Or maybe it was just her eyes._

_"What are you doing here, Noah?" She had looked so scared and he hated just fucking hated himself (_and he was so sick of hating himself_)._

_"Came to see you, Berry." He had lurched forward and she had edged further behind the door. That had brought him up short and he remembers laughing. "Course you don't want me here. No one does."_

_"You throw slushies on me at school, Noah." Her voice was like a knife to the heart or some other vaguely romantic Shakespearian bullshit and it fucking hurt like it always hurt with Rachel. He had shrunk back and that must've made her brave cause the door was swinging open and Rachel was standing there in all her Rachel-like glory – nonstop-in-his-face-'you-can-be-better-I-believe-in-you' harmony with the _NoahNoahNoah_ melody and the beat of the drums and ohmyfuckingGod he had to stop going to Glee if he was gonna keep thinking in song metaphors._

_She stepped out onto the porch (_into reaching distance, and he should've backed the fuck away right then_) and put her hands on her hips. He had known his face was showing too much because one, he was drunk, and two, it was Rachel and he had always looked at her with too much – too much hate, too much pain, too much for him, too much for her, and way way way too much for Quinn. She had sighed shakily and looked away and he knew, he just fucking **knew**, like he always had. "I can't help you, Noah. We're not friends anymore, remember?"_

(And for all his _knowing_ bullshit, he should have known then. No one sounds that defeated and wins the war.)

(He just didn't know the war was her fucking life, okay?)

_But in the past, Puck had grinned cause it was too late for Rachel. His hands had shot out to wrap around her (_too tiny_) waist and she was against him and not struggling and the grin grew because he had her._

_"C'mon, Berry." His lips were by her ear and her hands were trembling as she tried to weakly push him away. "We were never friends in the first place." He had run his nose down her neck to place an open mouthed kiss on her collarbone and her head had fallen back and Puck realized that he was not just saying things. He had never been friends with Rachel. He never fucking would be. There had been no phase between hating her and being so abso-fucking-lutely drunk off her, he just was, and he fucking hated it, he hated her. She was not his perfect Quinn, gorgeous devious made-for-him Quinn and Puck had never forgiven her for that._

_He belonged with Quinn. He was gonna be with Quinn. He just needed Rachel away. He needed Rachel here._

_She whimpered in his grasp and he kissed her a little harder because fuck, he just fucking _needed_ her._

_"Fucking beautiful." And he had never called Quinn beautiful, but he breathed it into Rachel's skin like a prayer. He had hoisted her up to his waist and carried her in. He never wanted to not be kissing her. He never wanted to see her again. He wanted to want blonde hair streaming through his fingers. The couch had been right there and Puck had been drunk._

_Three hours later Rachel's head was resting on the shoulder still wet from Quinn's tears as he ran into the hospital._

* * *

Finn's hand is locked down on his arm and Puck honestly want it there cause, no homo, he just need to be touching someone who's fucking breathing for a while.

_(He is screaming her name, his knees grinding little white pills into dust.)_

Rachel is going to be released tomorrow, the Berrys inform them after a brief meeting with the doctors. Finn nods – nobody does autopilot better than Finn. The hand on his arm stops shaking for only brief moments of time and this is not one of those times.

He needs to get Finn home. He needs to check on Santana. He needs to tell his mom. He needs to find Quinn.

_(He needs to-)_

Fucking _stop. _He is not reliving, he is not gonna fucking torture himself that way. He's gotta keep it together for Finn because the hand on his arm stops shaking for only brief moments of time and the moments keep getting shorter.

* * *

He doesn't know why he called Mr. Schue first and not Rachel's parents or Finn or his own freaking mother. Probably because Schue's not much for panic-mode and gives good concerned-parent. Puck got out the basics to the doctors before his teenage mind rejected all that responsibility and they sat his ass out to rot in the waiting room. And he knew the Berrys were out of town so Schue it was.

But he left with the other kids, the ones that shouldn't have been here in first place. Quinn had appeared in the waiting room at Mercedes' shoulder and Puck was pretty sure she must've been crying cause Quinn's a crier anyway but also, suicide. He doesn't really remember much after Santana started yelling. Usually he's impressed when Santana starts speaking Spanish but there's something about Quinn being so alive and Rachel being so dead that makes his brain short circuit.

So now he and Finn are stuck with the Berrys who keep giving them looks, okay, and its taking all of Puck's barely-there-on-a-good-day, good-days-not-being-the-ones-when-your-girl-tries-to-off-herself-and-you're-the-one-that-finds-her constraint to not scream at them. Do they think they got no fucking fault in this? Maybe if they were there for more than one day out of the week they would've noticed something was wrong. Maybe this wouldn't have happened. Ever think about that, fuckers?

But there are certain things in certain situations that a good Jew does not say, and accusing a girl's parents of being a reason she killed herself is one of them.

So Puck keeps his mouth shut and his arm still under Finn's dude-stop-shaking hand.

* * *

At 10:46 Hiram can't take it anymore and the Berrys call it a night. They make Puck and Finn walk them out and even wait until they see Puck push Finn into the passenger side of his truck before taking off. Once they're out of the parking lot, Puck is still pushing Finn, only this time back into the hospital. The receptionist just nods tiredly at them and Puck pushes some more, down the ICU hallway.

"Puck, man, what are we doing?"

"Gonna see Rachel, dumbass."

"Rache doesn't want to see us, _dumbass_!"

Puck gives Finn one last shove and moves away, glaring and breathing too hard cause Rachel's door is right fucking there and Finn's standing right in front of it. "Come _on_, man, you know you want to see her."

And Finn does, Puck can tell; the light in his eyes – again, no homo, Finn's just one of those people – has sputtered back to life.

"We'll just…check on her," Finn says slowly. Puck nods. Whatthefuckever, he just needs to see Rachel.

Finn nods back sharply, and is turning and opening the door before Puck blinks again. His friend slips into the darkness of the room and Puck nearly jumps in after him, shutting the door behind him.

The room is lit up by the moon and he doesn't know whether to be thankful he can see or not. He can hear her breathing, cause he and Finn sure as hell aren't, and honest to God it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard in his life. But it still isn't enough (_it'll never be enough_) and he finds his feet moving forward and his hand closing over-

"The hell?"

The surface under his hand isn't smooth and soft like he knows Rachel's skin to be. It's rough and scratchy and he jerks away.

It's not Rachel.

"What's wrong?" Finn whispers urgently. He's crossed over to the other side of the bed. Puck just shakes his head because his brain has caught up with him and of course Berry's strapped down. Can't have her making another go at it.

Finn seems to have no trouble finding Rachel's hand. He's leaning down over her, looming, and Rachel's gonna be terrified if she wakes up right now. Puck knows they should be going, knows they have no right to be here, not after all that they've done, but he just can't bring himself to leave her. Every second in that waiting room is a second he can't see her, a second more he can convince himself that he was too late, that he's dreaming, that she's really gone and he'll never get to tell her-

"Rachel." Finn has gotten closer to her, brushing the hair out of her face. And God, he just loves her, that idiot. Puck's always known that, but he never thought Finn was serious about. He thought it was just a phase until Finn realized he was still in love with Quinn and he ended up being half-right. Cause c'mon, he and Finn will always be in love with the same girls. It was the one constant in his life.

"You're gonna wake her up."

But Finn ignores him. His shoulders are shuddering as he brushes a kiss on Rachel's forehead. "C'mon, Rache," he whispers. His tears are dripping onto her face and Puck feels ill and betrayed and like he deserves this and it's all true.

Finn kisses her forehead again. "You mean the world to me, too." His voice breaks horribly on the last word and Rachel starts to life, shoots up and falls down just as quickly. Finn staggers back while Puck surges forward.

"Rachel! Rachel, it's me, it's Noah!"

She stops shuddering the moment his hands touch her shoulders and relaxes. There it is again. He _knows._

* * *

_Rachel had been lounging in the pool chair, her pinky resting against his. The sun had been hot, but not as hot as Rachel in her bikini._

_Still, "You're turning red. You can jump in you know. That's what the pool is for," she had said, bumping her elbow against his. He had turned his head towards her smile and felt his mouth involuntarily twist up._

_"And leave you all by your lonesome? No way."_

_"I'm right here, you know," Finn had said from her other side, hand wrapped around Rachel's. But Rachel had just smiled softly and looked back up to the clear blue sky._

_"You'll never leave me, right?" Her tone had been playful, that diva-conceited edge she had lost over the summer creeping in. Puck hadn't been sure who she was talking to, but answered all the same._

_"Never. You're my favorite."_

_He hadn't looked away fast enough to miss Finn's fingers twisting Rachel's tightly to his._

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Rachel asks lowly. "I told my dads I didn't want to see you."

"They went home," Puck answers, removing his hands. A little flash of pain, anger, hurt, something flashes across Rachel's face but it's gone the next moment.

"I still don't want to see you." She seems to finally notice Finn's in the room and winces. "Either of you."

Finn looks completely shocked and part of Puck knows that on some level Finn had convinced himself Rachel had died, and to see her talking now is some weird cross between a dream and a nightmare, because Puck feels the same way, complete with a visual.

(_You were screaming in her face cause no matter what, that always got a reaction, but there was nothing but cold skin and pills crushed into the floor)_

"I'll scream," Rachel is warning, because neither of them have moved. Puck's still caught on how warm her shoulders were underneath her hands. His brain won't add it up this time for him. Rachel takes a breath and opens her mouth and Puck-

"I was the one who found you."

-completely loses his shit, apparently. But it makes Rachel shut up. Small victories and whatever. Puck is relieved for half a second until Rachel's face goes completely blank.

It's the most terrifying thing he's ever seen. Rachel's face has always been his favorite book to read. It's pure emotion, so close he could touch it if he wanted to. That is gone now. Her face is completely remote, and he can't help thinking she's less beautiful for it.

"You were also the one that gave me the push I needed, so I think that makes us…" she stops at his horrified face and her own grimaces. "No. We'll never be even."

There is a buzzing in his ears now, and maybe its his own weird defense mechanism, trying to drown out what she's saying. He doesn't want to face this. He doesn't think he can face this. He doesn't think he'll survive if he loved Quinn so much he killed Rachel Berry.

* * *

Finn asks "What are you talking about?"

Rachel says "Noah didn't tell you?"

* * *

_"What are you talking about?" Finn had had his confused look on as he looked back and forth between a glaring Rachel and a smirking Puck._

_Rachel had placed her hands on her hips, only for them to fly up moments later. "Noah didn't tell you?"_

_"Tell me what?" Finn had asked, looking expectantly at Puck. Puck just grinned._

_"Tell you that I got the tickets, man."_

_Rachel had huffed. "Because he certainly didn't tell me." Puck had grinned down at her; she was so freaking adorable when she was mad. He accepted Finn's high five and stuck his tongue out at the angry brunette._

_"Why are you mad? Aerosmith's awesome!" Finn had yelled the last part and Rachel barely covered a grimace._

_"I respect your opinion, Finn, but I don't share it. Still, Noah convinced my parents that I live for Steven Tyler's voice and now they're all ready for me to go," Rachel had sighed. "To a _sports arena_ as well. People sweat all over those seats."_

_Finn looked confused again. "Well, why don't you just tell them the truth?" Puck had glared, cause seriously? Rachel, at a rock concert? _Hot_._

_Rachel had sighed again, only this time it seemed sadder. "They're just so excited that I'm going to do normal teenage things, like go to a concert. Even if it is with you two." A smile almost broke out at the 'Hey!'s she got. She shrugged her shoulders and went on. "Besides, they're going to Georgia that weekend, so they're happy I won't be alone."_

_"Because you've never experienced that sensation before." Puck had rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Rache, are your dads ever home?"_

_"More than yours," Rachel shot back venomously. Puck had looked down sharply at her, mainly because that shit was not okay to say to him and also because she almost never used that tone, especially not with him. And her mouth had been set in this angry little line but her eyes had looked like he had shot her puppy._

_"Hey," Finn had started in a soft voice, placing a hand on her shoulder. She shook it off and raised a hand to her eyes._

_"I shouldn't have said that," she had said after a moment. She lowered her hand and her eyes were shinier than normal. "I'm sorry, Noah."_

_"Me, too," he had mumbled. She laughed._

_"Do you even know what you're sorry for?"_

_Puck had a suspicion that there's was some shit that was not okay to say to her, too, but he also suspected that Rachel really would rather he not know. So he shook his head and gave his best puppy dog eyes that had Finn choking back a laugh._

_"No. But lemme make it up to you anyway. I've heard there's this concert…"_

* * *

Finn asks "What are you talking about?"

And Rachel says "Noah didn't tell you?"

And Finn shakes his head and they both look at him. Puck panics because he really can't lose Finn like this again. He looks at Rachel and he hates that he needs something from her (_Who the hell is he to need something from her?_) but he is figuratively on his goddamn knees here.

And she opens her mouth and says "Nothing."

He's gonna hate himself forever.

Finn doesn't look convinced or confused, because Finn's weirdly empathic. But he lets it go.

"I think you should leave," Rachel says again. Her eyes move to the ceiling. "I think it would be best for all of us if you went home. And didn't come back."

Puck doesn't have a lot of control left because its been nineteen hours and there's still ground up white dust in the denim of his jeans. "No fucking way," he hears himself say. "I found you. I carried you here. You owe me-"

"Excuse me?" Rachel snaps, and the air rushes out of the room. Maybe its as scared of her dead-eyes-deader-voice as he is. "I owe you nothing, Noah Puckerman."

(_"gave me the push I needed")_

"Well, then," Puck says. His mouth is moving faster than his brain (his brain is always behind) but he can't leave her. "Finn. You owe Finn."

"What do I owe Finn, hm?" She's asking these questions and she's supposed to be angry, but there's nothing, just coldness. Everything about her, everything around her is cold, and Puck's afraid she really is dead. "For abandoning me when we broke up? For kicking me out of glee? For going back to Quinn when he knew how she'd been treating me? You're right. How could I possibly repay you for that?" Her gaze slides over to Finn and he is cowering against the wall. Puck wants to shrink away from this Rachel that's all cold and no emotion (_and less beautiful for it_) but he can't fuckingleave her.

"Rachel," Finn chokes out. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

His friend is choking on his tears and regret and guilt and Puck could've stopped all this. Puck could've for once in his damn life played the hero and saved them all. There would've been no Quinn, but there also wouldn't have been a dead girl on a bathroom floor with scraps of notebook paper for a shroud. No Quinn, but no dead girl in a hospital bed making Finn cry.

There would be no Quinn, but there would've been a never-ending summer. There would've been the _NoahNoahNoah_ melody and a pinky wrapped around his and a hand under his arm that didn't shake and three kids at an Aerosmith concert.

* * *

"If you're really sorry," Rachel breathes. "You'd leave."

Finn nods blindly and stumbles out of the room. Puck will never forget the look on his face.

"Puck-"

"You were so cold, Rachel." He doesn't know what he's saying anymore. He doesn't know anything because the person he thought he was he can no longer stand to be. "You were so cold and you weren't breathing."

Rachel breathes in an out shakily and when he looks up she's crying, staring at the door. She's crying because of Finn.

"You didn't want him to leave," Puck states, parts of the person-he-can-no-longer-be rearing their ugly heads. Rachel closes her eyes over her tears.

"I never wanted anyone to leave before, but they always did." She laughs hoarsely. "Now I can't make you go away. Yes, I wanted him gone. I want you to _please leave_ as well. Do you know how hard it is to look at you? Either one of you?"

"Your fathers say you're moving away. So you'll never have to see us again."

A look of sheer relief skitters over her face and Puck wants to die. "That would be ideal."

"Please stay." How he has gotten so close to her, he doesn't know. But one of his hands is an inch away from framing her face and the other is folded in hers. He's begging, he knows he is. But he doesn't care.

Rachel's hand pulls against his. "Why in the world would you think I'd stay because you asked?"

"Because you love me," Puck says, his hand bridging the gap to cup her face. Her face registers emotion for the first time and her hand jerks up against her restraint. She wants to slap him. He pushes on despite this. "You love me, and I love you, and I'm so sorry, Rachel, I'm so goddamned sorry-"

"You are _not_!" she shrieks. "You're not in love with me! _You're not sorry!_ You promised me you'd never leave and you did. You promised me you'd never slushie anyone again and you _did_. You made me believe that I was special, that I wasn't a toy, and you lied, and I was!"

She is sobbing now, the words barely making it out of her mouth, and two arms are wrapping around Puck and yanking him away. Finn's furious voice is in his ears and Rachel is sobbing and Puck has been here before, in a different setting. And just like before, he hates himself more than anything in the world. And just like before, he has destroyed the thing he loves most.

Finn is dragging him back, but Rachel speaks and it makes them both stop.

"You made me feel like I was worthless. I looked after you, I took care of you. I tried so hard for you and you didn't even care. And I kept trying and trying and I _got – so - tired_!" She hits the bed with each word. She's crying out all the dead things in her eyes. "Can you blame me? For giving up? Can you blame me?"

She looks up at them, he and Finn, and he can't even see summer-Rachel, can't even see his girl anymore. He has killed her, it's a simple as that. Santana killed her by being too weak, Kurt by being too strong, Mercedes by trying too hard, Tina by not trying at all, Artie by snapping back, Matt and Mike by not speaking, Finn by being untrustworthy, Brittany by being too loyal.

But him? He is Quinn's mirror, sword, and shield, and he delivered the final blow.

"Quinn…always made me feel bad. But you? You made me feel like I was nothing."

Finn starts pulling. He goes without resistance, his eyes never leaving Rachel's. Her eyes are no longer dead. They're filled with hatred.

* * *

He wakes up the next morning on the Hudson's couch. He doesn't remember how he got here but guesses he owes Finn one.

He almost forgets why his heart feels like it's on fire until he looks down at the white-dusted knees of his jeans.

There's a knock on the door. It must've been what woke him up. He steadily climbs to his feet and makes his way to the door, only to find Quinn on the other side.

"I tried," she starts shakily. She takes a deep breath. "I tried to wait in the waiting room this morning for her, but the doctors said she wasn't allowed any visitors. I found this. It's yours."

She's holding out a scrap of notebook paper with his name on it and his heart drops. He takes it slowly.

He didn't read it before because he was afraid that reading it was accepting Rachel's death, and he hadn't been prepared to do that. What excuse did he have now?

"Are you going to read it?" Quinn sniffs. Puck looks at her. He knows what hers said. Four simple words that he and she both know she deserved. He looks at her and all he sees is another girl, with darker hair and darker (deader) eyes, strewn across the floor. Quinn looks exactly like death.

He nods and shuts the door in her face.

* * *

_Noah, I miss you. I'm always missing you. And it wasn't supposed to be that way. You promised you would stay. Isn't that I promise that I'll never miss you?_

_You're always leaving, and I'm always missing you. Well, let me be spiteful. It's my turn now. I am going to leave and you are going to miss me terribly._

_I just don't understand why. I know you love Quinn, but what was so wrong with being brave and staying with me? It's not like your incapable of bravery; you choose me over football, once upon a time. Once you told me "Bring it" and I had never loved anyone as much as I loved you in that moment._

_I do. Love you. So much. Insert a silly romantic phrase here and call it pansy-ass bullshit or whatever you say now, but it doesn't stop it from being true, and it won't stop this from killing you. Because you tend to save up your emotions for after the fact when the damage is irreparable, past apologies, past prayer._

_You ruin everything._

_WHERE WERE YOU? You and Finn were supposed to protect me. You were supposed to be my friends. But you left me. You promised you wouldn't. You promised, you promised. Please, Noah, why did you promise? Where are you? The pills, they're getting harder to swallow. I keep coming back to you, like you kept going back to Quinn. You left for Quinn tonight, you left me alone on the couch and it's too much. You're always leaving, and I'm always missing you._

_I miss you terribly. Another spiteful moment, because there's a thin line between love and hate, and the more pills I take, the thinner it gets. The colors are starting to bleed, and maybe I'm scared. You're supposed to protect me._

_Spiteful. Quinn. Why Quinn? What's so wonderful about that lying, cheating, nasal, tone-deaf Cheerio anyway? The girl's a bitch. There, I said it. Quinn's a bitch and I hate her, and you love her. The lines, they're getting thinner, Noah._

_I think Quinn killed me. I think I'm scared. I think the pen's scared too, because it keeps trying to escape my hand. Where are you?_

_I think you killed me. And I am scared. My eyes won't stay open, and I keep hearing Jesse in my ear. Jesse left a long time ago. People are always leaving me, and I am always missing them._

_You take care of Finn and Santana. Be strong. The boy I love was strong and brave and sometimes I think he loved me, too._

_I'm happy. A little scared, but happy. I can sleep now. I wish you were here._

_Caroline_

* * *

The paper is crumpled in his fist and he is muttering the song into his fist, a year too late to save anyone, including him.

For all his rushing and crying and pleading and apologizing, Puck still let Rachel Berry die. And she was right. Sometimes he does love her, too.

* * *

And he misses her terribly.


	7. Another Six Months I'll Be Unknown

**Here is Mr. Schue's chapter, at long last. Also, say hi to Sam, for a brief moment, who I love intensely and who made me tolerate Quinn until bitch up and kissed Finn. Why does she hate me?**

He hits a few keys and the notes sound dead. Everything in this room is dead, now.

He plucks out the flat melody. "Who told you you're allowed to rain on my parade?" He croons them softly to a girl he can imagine, just on the other side of the piano. But he's always had this horribly active imagination and ghost-Rachel cocks her head and smiles sadly.

"You did, Mr. Schue."

* * *

He only came to school today to make sure the kids would be alright. If it were up to him, he'd be at home, putting in the recording of New Directions at Regionals and marveling at the light in his star's eyes.

If it were up to him, he'd spend the rest of his life trying to figure out how he didn't notice that light go out.

* * *

He's still sitting on that chair two periods later. He should be going to class. He's got kids to teach, verbs to conjugate. But he's sitting there. He's afraid if he stops playing he'll lose the melody. Some irrational side of him is terrified that if he stops playing Rachel will go away. So he stays, and he plays her song. Not singing, never singing, never ruining that voice in his head, the one he heard over the phone so long ago.

The bench creaks with the weight of another and Mercedes is beside him. She watches his hands for a few moments before her hands dart out and slam the lid closed.

The melody stops.

He stares at her. It occurs to him that unless it was because of a feud with Rachel, he has never taken the chance to really look at Mercedes. He's always listened to her and her incredible voice, but that's all she was. A voice.

Reality is painful now. Regret-tinged and guilty. He must look because this can't happen again. He can't let another one slip away from him. So he stares at the tear tracks running down Mercedes' face, on the deep brown hands shaking on the lid, on the shuddering shoulders.

And he looks away. He's never been strong enough, Rachel proved that. All Mercedes' has proved is that he never will be.

"Don't torture yourself," Mercedes says softly. "It won't help."

She sounds old when she says this – too old. There are shadows in Mercedes eyes that don't belong there. But he's not strong (never will be) so he doesn't ask.

"Shouldn't you be in third?"

Mercedes throws him a dark look and he feels his face form into the unfamiliar expression of shame. "You can't do this, you know."

"Do what?" He moves to stand and she mimics his movements. The shadows aren't gone but they are receding to the edges, driven back by the determination that has suddenly filled Mercedes' eyes.

"You have to be strong," she says, and he wants to scream because _does she realize what she's asking?_ He's only as strong as his glee club, and they were only ever as strong as Rachel, and she's gone now. "You have to tell them how alright everything will be. You _have_ to make them believe. Because they're going to come in here and all they'll see is her and they need someone to stay strong for them."

She stares at him, with no expectancy in her gaze. This is fact to her. He looks back – he can't think of how to tell her no – and then suddenly Mercedes is sixteen again, and a girl she knew just tried to die. He feels his feet move forward automatically as tears fill her eyes but she backs away quickly, wiping them away as quickly as they appear.

"More than anything," she manages. "It's just that we don't have the right to be weak."

His feet freeze, everything freezes, everything stops. And for a moment Will believes nothing will ever stop moving in slow motion ever again. Then, _I should be so lucky_. If his world moved slower then he wouldn't have passed by Rachel's.

He didn't notice anything was wrong with her. He can make excuses all he likes – he can use Teri and the baby or even the other kids but the fact is he didn't notice how quiet she became, how thin she'd gotten, how seldom her voice was heard until he almost never heard it again. _He didn't notice._

Or maybe he noticed and he ignored it. The thought is terrifying but if he's to be strong he has to face it. Rachel was a trying girl. She was a diva, self-absorbed and gratingly overbearing. Can he honestly say he didn't welcome her silence when it came?

Mercedes can't quite cover a sob and the world speeds up. The thought blessedly slips away and he finds himself nodding.

"I'll be whatever you guys need me to be."

It's all it takes for Mercedes to surge forward. Her arms are tight around him for a brief moment and he wills every good thought he's ever had into her before she lets go. She tries for a smile but misses and turns away, raising the cover over the keys on the piano.

The moment is broken. The cover is up and Rachel is back. She is circling the piano with a smile; she is ruffling Brad's hair. She is alive and sparkling and happy.

She's a ghost.

He backs away, out of the room, out of her shrine, but he still hears those first few keys played.

* * *

"_A world that's full of happiness that I have never known…"_

* * *

He finally makes to the class he is meant to teach, only to be called immediately to Emma's office. She looks beautiful as always, the wedding band glittering on her hand, but there's no denying that there's something off kilter about her today. A button mismatched, a buckle undone. Will knows she was not particularly fond of Rachel – most adults weren't of kids who were smarter than them – but she's above all a counselor and to have missed the warning signs must be killing her.

They stare at each other for a moment before she whispers "I'm so sorry." He nods because that's all he knows how to do. Inside he wants to throw up – why apologize to him when he's made it out unscathed? Then she clears her throat and his heart sinks.

"We've had a call – from Mrs. Fabray. Quinn hasn't been home since…I've checked the attendance records for the last three periods and she's missed every class." Emma's voice is quiet as she relays this news and he needs her to speak up because the blood is pounding in his ears. "I wouldn't dream of bothering the kids with this – I can't even imagine how they made it to school today, though Finn and Puck aren't here – so I meant to ask you. Is she holed up in the choir room? It's fine if she is…" she keeps going but he stops listening. Quinn missing is dangerous. He saw her, in the waiting room. With that note (_**I HATE YOU TOO**_) in her hands and those tears down her face.

Quinn thought she killed Rachel. She was incoherent when she stumbled up to Mercedes but he got that much out of her. He can't imagine what that must've done to her, to think she took a life. Even when she figured out Rachel was alive, that look never left her eyes. There was no light left in her – just like Rachel. Quinn is slipping away somewhere and he's going to lose another one.

He needs to find her. Right now. He _can't_ lose her. He _refuses_.

"Y-yes," Emma says loudly, startling him. "But where would she be?" He stares at her for a moment before figures out what he's done. He shakes himself bodily and thinks. Quinn, Quinn, where the hell is Quinn?

"I don't know. But I'll find her. She won't be lost for long, I promise."

* * *

"_To live without you would only mean heartbreak for me…"_

* * *

So he drives. Everywhere he can think of. The city park, BreadstiX, Mercedes' house, the 7-Eleven, the practice fields. The little boutique on Main, the ice cream parlour on Fifth. He drives down random streets, hoping to see her walking, praying that somewhere, she's still moving, she's still indomitable Q. But she's not there. She's not anywhere.

Then he drives by the hospital. And his eyes grow a little weary and his hearts crumbles a little more.

She is hunched in a chair, still in her junior prom hair and makeup, still in the clothes she was wearing yesterday. Her hands are shaking and she's crying in her sleep. But she's breathing, and Will has never been so relieved.

Her feet are resting in the lap of a blond boy with a mouth that's just a bit too wide for his face. Will can place his face but not the name – Sam? Cam? – but the first words out of his mouth are a thank you.

SamCam looks up with a start, then immediately checks on Quinn. He looks back warily. "Mr. Schuester?" Will nods and the boy sighs. "Please tell me you're gonna make her go home. She's been here longer than I have."

"I'm here to try," he responds, the motions the kid away. The blond gingerly places Quinn's feet down as he moves to stand, then pauses. He fishes a receipt from his pocket and snags the pen out of Will's vest pocket and writes down an out of area number.

"Give this to her?" Will opens his mouth to reject him, thinking more boys is not what Quinn needs now, but SamCam cuts him off. "Look, I don't know what's going on. She wouldn't tell me. All I know is that she's been here, without injury, for so long that even the nurses have stopped trying to get her to leave. And the only one who's called is her mother. No one else. So it seems like she could use somebody." He presses the paper into Will's chest as Will regards him for a moment. There are no lies in this blond's clear blue eyes, which is a change. There is no secret menace or pain. A very simple boy. Kind. He grabs the paper and nods. The blond smiles a little and says "It's Sam Evans, by the way. Tell her I said goodbye, alright?"

Sam Evans smiles a little wider and beats him on the shoulder before disappearing through the sliding doors to the outside world. The sunlight seems to swallow him up for a moment and Will can't help but stare.

When he looks down, the world is gray and Quinn's eyes are open.

* * *

"I don't understand," he says, staring at her pretty face, marred by smeared mascara and raw lips. Her red eyes are fixed on the ICU hallway.

"I just wanted to see her," she whispers.

"You can't."

Her gaze never wavers. "I just wanted to see her."

* * *

They sit in silence for a long while, only broken by a kindly nurse offering them drinks. Will practically forces the hot cocoa into Quinn's hands but she still doesn't drink.

Then, after too many moments, Quinn laughs quietly. It's a terrible beauty, her laugh, and Will cringes. "Her parents came to visit earlier. I hid in the bathroom. The nurses were so relieved to see me gone. The look on their faces when I came back…" She laughs again, and it breaks off into a sob that she smothers with an alarming rapidity.

Will moves a little closer. "You can't do this to yourself, Quinn." She bites at her broken lip and rolls her eyes.

"Bust out some more clichés, Mr. Schue. Tell me it's not my fault." Her eyes slide away from the hallway to regard him for one long moment and he knows he can't say it. He can't lie to her, even when she most needs to hear it. Not about this. Her eyes slide away and she nods once. "That's what I thought."

"You are not the one who made Rachel swallow those pills," he says firmly, for that much is true. Of all the things that have killed him since Puck called him, it is that strong and brave Rachel Berry gave up. The girl with the most and the biggest dreams threw them all away. She lost. He doesn't know how the rest of them are supposed to make it if she can't.

Quinn hasn't answered yet, but her eyes are narrowed. Quinn's smart and ruthless; if he was brutally honest, one of her defining traits is her ability to shift her blame onto anyone else's shoulders.

Then, "But I'm the one who made her think of swallowing them."

He doesn't know how to respond to this so he stays silent and watches her. Her eyes dart to his once, twice, and then her whole body seems to whirl in a sudden motion, and her arms are circled around her knees as she rocks back and forth.

"I just wanted to be with Finn," she says softly, eyes welling. "I just wanted to be happy like I used to. And 'used to' didn't include her."

His eyes close against his will as she speaks. Her guilt is overwhelming, too big for her in that hospital chair and too big for him. He doesn't know how to help. He doesn't know what to do. He noticed, he found her, and he still can't help.

"I never wanted her to die. I just wanted her to go away. I didn't want to see her."

He opens his eyes just in time to see the first tears fall from her eyes.

"I just want to see her."

* * *

In the end, he bundles her up in his arms and bodily takes her to his car. She doesn't say much, not even to protest, but he has to pry her hands of the arms of the hospital chair.

He briefly thinks of taking her to her house, but is too afraid she'll just drive back to the hospital. He can't take her to school. He's at a loss until his pocket crinkles noisily. He looks at her. "Would you go to Sam's?"

A look of surprise flits across her face for a wonderful moment before she shuts down. "He's awfully nice, Mr. Schue. I think it's better I keep my distance from him."

And there are some things he cannot argue. But if she won't destroy one boy for her own good, maybe it would be best to take her to two she's already massacred.

She fights him all the way to Finn's front door. "You don't understand what I've done to them. I tried to come yesterday – Puck slammed the door in my face! Mr. Schue!" But cannot be convinced this isn't the best thing for her when this is the most alive he's seen her in two hours. His hand tightens on her wrist and he rings the doorbell.

Carole Hudson opens the door slowly. She, too, has not escaped from Rachel. Her hair is a mess and she has not managed to wipe away all the traces of tears from her face. She looks right past Will to Quinn and her eyes harden for ten long painful seconds before she tilts her head and something breaks. He will never know what she saw in Quinn in that moment – maybe it was that sweet pregnant girl, wearing the same dress for the third day straight – but she says. "Oh, Quinn." and reaches for her.

Quinn is encircled in the next moment and the wrist still in his hands tightens before pulling out of his grasp to wrap around the older woman. And suddenly Quinn can't stop shaking. Her cries are long and broken and Will wants to back away from it. He's always had a certain illusion about Quinn – the unbreakable and unspeakably brave Ice Queen. To have so many curtains ripped away in so short a time is too much for him.

He had an ice princess with the soft side. A diva with a heart of gold. A punk with no heart at all. An outcast who empathized. A backup who was only second best. A band of misfits who were a family.

He's lost them all. Worse, they never existed. These kids that he'd grown to love and became accustomed to were not real. Quinn destroyed someone's life. Rachel didn't make it. Puck is changed forever. Kurt never understood. Mercedes is stronger than he ever will be. And the glee club is just like the rest of the world – hurtful and cruel and only sorry when it's too late.

Everything is broken now, in his world. Rachel broke everything with one bottle of pills and sixteen slips of paper. Maybe he was wrong before. Rachel didn't lose; he did.

* * *

Finn and Puck come to the door later. They sigh once, together; a soft, tired sigh - and then are surprisingly silent when they take Quinn from Carole, eyes focused on the small blonde as they normally are. Puck pushes the other two forward and looks back.

"Where'd you find her?"

Will looks anywhere but Puck's ruined hazel eyes when he answers. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he spots Puck's jaw tense and his curt nod before the boy disappears from view. Carole watches him go then turns back. "They'll take care of her. They always have."

Will can't help himself. "But-"

"I know," Carole says. "But she's Quinn. She's important and protected. That's the way it's always been. It doesn't mean they love Rachel any less."

She thanks him and he backs away as the door closes. He waits for a long moment – he almost expects screams to start inside the house and the sound of glasses being thrown. He doesn't understand how they could take Quinn back without protest but if he's learned anything, it's that he doesn't know his kids for shit.

He walks away. It's time for glee rehearsal.

* * *

_Mr. Schue_

_I want to thank you so much for forming the glee club. Really it has been one of the greatest parts of my life. And if sometimes it was also the most terrible, I hardly think you can be blamed. After all, you never paid us much attention. I don't know who you were seeing when you looked at us, but I don't believe it was really the thirteen kids you did have. _

_Never doubt that you changed my life, and usually, it was for the better. You did what you believed was best and you taught me so very much. I don't want to leave you with a lot of grief because I think that no matter what I'll say here, you'll forget about me someday, and if I'm going to make an impact I want it to last. I will leave you with advice though. Stop looking through them. Stop ignoring them. They are the glee club, not you. This is their time, and it's time to let them shine, Mr. Schue. Be strong and don't falter and LISTEN. _

_I can't write long. There are so many people and so many pills. And I must say goodbye. On my own._


	8. Days When I Still Felt Alive

**Hi guys, obviously this is the new chapter. It's of course, very delayed, but I ran out of inspiration for this fic about the time I lost faith in Glee. It is a mess of a show right now. Still, I did have plans for this and I will try to finish it.**

* * *

He spins once, twice, and goes for a third before he catches a glimpse through the doorway of a girl with long brown hair walking in the hall in the mirror's reflection.

When he hits the ground, he doesn't feel a thing.

* * *

_Mike,_

_I know that we aren't – weren't – close, but I couldn't bear not saying goodbye to the guy who helped me perfect my step-ball-chain. It was always the simplest dance moves I failed at. Pretty typical of me, I suppose. Couldn't master a jazz square, couldn't manage friendship._

_You're one the nicest boys I ever met, and that's why I'm writing your letter first. I thought the first pill would be the hardest to take, but you'd be amazed how fast I'm swallowing them. It helps to have no gag reflex. I'm just so sad, Mike. I just hurt so much, and thinking of you and Matt, and Brittany, and Santana, it makes it fade maybe just a little._

_I realize this is selfish of me, but I'm still going to make a final request. The way you dance, the passion in your eyes, please don't ever lose that. It was one of the most beautiful things I ever got to witness. _

_Thank you._

* * *

He doesn't know what Rachel saw when she looked at him; whatever it was, it's gone now.

* * *

He catches glimpses of the others in the hallway. Brittany and Santana are never apart and neither is holding it together very well. Yesterday Brittany only made it through three minutes of glee before having to excuse herself.

It's a Tuesday now, and the doctors decided to keep Rachel in the hospital a bit longer while her dads set up some type of workable situation at her house for her. It's weird, to him, really. Rachel always thought the world revolved around her. Now it really does. Only took her nearly dying to get that way.

They should've noticed. They should have seen it coming. _They should've stopped it._

* * *

He wants to talk to her. Because, it's true, they weren't close. She came to him sometimes for help with dance moves, but that was about it. But Rachel wasn't that bad, you know?

He says this out loud without realizes it and the entire table freezes. Mike stares at the eight boys looking back at him, all football players, all boys who willingly tortured Rachel and the rest of the glee kids. Boys who are whole and happy and complete, who were just a minute ago making jokes about the new female head coach.

He stands without a thought, without even meaning to, his brain so shorted out that he doesn't come to until his feet have carried him all the way to the bathroom and he is heaving into a toilet.

* * *

Not one of them looked guilty.

* * *

Rachel wasn't that bad.

He tries to tell this to Matt and the other boy looks straight through him before asking him to not use past tense.

She wasn't that bad.

And he thinks about Finn's empty seat in homeroom and thinks, _But is she now?_

* * *

He just wants to talk.

(Not to ask her why. Just ask her how.)

* * *

He makes his way to the studio. Changes into his dance shoes. Spins once, twice, and goes for a third before he catches a girl with long brown hair walking in the hall in the mirror's reflection.

When he hits the ground, he doesn't feel a thing.

* * *

(As in, 'how could you do that to us?')

* * *

He just lies there, looking in the mirror at his limbs sprawled out on the polished wood and he thinks of Puck, sitting in a hospital waiting room, muttering about bathroom floors and cold skin.

He just lies there. Just breathes. Presses his ear to the wood like maybe it holds an echo of a giggling girl who can't quite master the step-ball-chain.

He can't.

* * *

He wonders if it was as peaceful as this, if she just lied down on the floor in a mess of paper, fascinated by the sound of her breathing getting slower and slower. Such a quiet way to go, so unlike Rachel. But he figures, hey, that was probably the point. Rachel was so sick of being Rachel she tried to kill herself.

And he's so mixed up now, he's so lost. Why – how – when will this stop? He just lies there, staring into a mirror, not seeing anything, and he thinks he's going crazy. His mother told him it was normal to be upset and confused but there is _nothing_ normal here, not anymore. Rachel Berry attempted suicide by Vicodin overdose. Those are cold, hard facts. That's probably what they wrote on her hospital chart.

* * *

But what does that leave out? That Rachel Berry was a diva, that she was selfish and could be cruel. That she was overbearing and tactless. That she had no friends. That she tried to make friends. That she was determined and brave and had very little fear. That she gave one hundred percent to everything she did. That she kept an extra set of clothes in her locker because people threw slushies on her. That she loved the glee club, that she loved Finn Hudson and Noah Puckerman. That she tried to be better, and that's what should've counted.

That she didn't deserve what happened to her.

* * *

Two periods and he has yet to move. And no one's come to find him; no one's noticed he's missing. It's scary. He's scared. Someone would notice if he was gone, right? Someone would look for him, someone would miss him?

He doesn't know. And that's the most frightening thing of all.

* * *

_Matt,_

_I just set aside Mike's letter. You're second on my list. _

_I should've been better friends with you, but there's no helping that now. I think you'll be alright. You'll be alright? _

_I've ingested ten pills so far. I don't feel a thing. It's so wonderful, to not feel a thing._

_You should sing a solo. I've heard you, you know, and you're not half bad. I always wanted you to sing something, but then again I always got a little too caught up in myself to ask. _

_Will you please look after Finn and Puck for me? I know you will anyway, but I just need to ask. I don't want people to be miserable after this. That's not why I'm doing this. I'm doing this because I literally cannot bear it. I think I would've died of a broken heart regardless._

_You once walked me to geometry because you overheard Karofsky planning to buy slushies the next period. I wanted to thank you for that walk. It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for me._

* * *

He didn't overhear Karofsky. Puck did.

* * *

Mike figures that Rachel wasn't that bad and Matt figures that he should stop talking about her like she's dead.

Puck found her, and Puck saved her. And one day, Rachel will be alright. One day, they will all be alright.

Such a damn shame that 'alright' is the highest he can possibly hope for.

* * *

He skips lunch because he finds Brittany crying in the choir room and Santana looks like she's at the end of her rope. So he sits down and lets Brittany curl into one side and Santana into the other and just holds them. Holds them together, holds them down, he just prays they if they start to break he might actually see it this time.

Brittany whispers in his ear that she's just so sorry, but Matt isn't sure she's talking to him.

And for a brief moment he just wants to kill Rachel for doing this to them.

* * *

And he thinks, _well, she did her damnedest to do that for you._

* * *

One day, they will be alright. One day, they will be alright. It's a mantra in his head until he realizes he's whispering it into Santana's hair.

And she smiles sadly. Not today.

* * *

The new kid, Sam Evans, the one who's replaced Finn at practice yesterday, who will replace him again today -

(_She asked you to take care of him and Puck. Just one request, and you can't even do that.)_

- catches him after lunch to tell him there's something wrong with Mike, that he's throwing up in the bathroom. He immediately turns in that direction until Sam asks if something's wrong.

_(Everything's wrong._ _Didn't you know? Don't feel bad, I didn't either.)_

* * *

He can't find Mike. He can't find Mike and he's a little scared.

They're not handling this well. None of them, and he supposes no one expects them to, but they're falling apart right in front of each other and no one's stopping it. There's almost a sick fascination in watching each other mourn and regret. Their grief is the same, they all had a hand in this, they all helped. He would be lying to himself to pretend he's any better than Quinn Fabray.

He did not throw slushies at her. He did not throw her in a dumpster or push her into lockers. He did not insult her or belittle her. He did not vote to kick her out of the glee club.

But he didn't say anything when others did.

* * *

_Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak out for me._

* * *

He finds his best friend lying on the floor of the second-floor dance studio, staring into a mirror. His legs are sprawled out in a way that is not exactly right but not wrong enough to be worrisome and Matt lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Mike's eyes don't move to him as he walks over and sits down. Matt looks in the mirror, trying to see what Mike sees, but he just notices how scared they both look.

"Mike?"

The other boy does not respond, just closes his eyes. Then, to his utter relief, Mike rolls his head to face him.

And he says, "I think I'm mad at her." He says this, he chokes it out, and it looks like the world has come down on his best friend's shoulders. Matt can't even look at him. He leans back and stretches on the floor beside him, not caring what this would look like to anyone who walked by.

He thinks about, hard. "I think we all are, a little."

Mike makes a small sound and he realizes that Mike thought he was the only one in all this, the only one who looked at what Rachel did and felt the slightest bit of resentment with all that regret.

"It's okay to be mad at her," he tells him, finally able to look over at him. Mike is already looking back. "You know? It sucks, her trying suicide. Cause it feels like she didn't think about us at all."

Mike nods. "And then you feel terrible because, I mean, why _would_ she think about us? Why should we matter to her when-"

"We didn't treat her like she mattered to anyone," Matt finishes flatly, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, willing his voice to stay steady.

"Yeah," Mike whispers. He sits up, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Then, "It's okay?"

Matt sighs heavily. "It's okay."

He sits up as well, moving so Mike has a bit more space. He looks in the mirror. "Can I tell you-" And he stops, because maybe he can't tell Mike.

But Mike glances at him and nods, and he doesn't want to be like Rachel, like the others. He doesn't want to fall apart and no one notice.

"I'm scared."

Mike stares.

"And I'm sorry."

And to his surprise, a little laugh, a chuckle almost mangled beyond recognition, bubbles out of his best friend's throat and Mike places his head back in his hands for a moment before rising again, cheeks a little wetter.

"You know, I'd tell you the same thing."


	9. The Choice Was Mine

**Hi guys. This is Jesse's chapter, but only the first half of his story. The second half should be posted soon. It was just too much to do in one chapter or in one sitting, which is how I like to write my chapters.**

**There's a lot of phone mechanics in this chapter, please just roll with them. I know. Thank you all so very very much for your insight and opinions, they mean the world to me. Also, thanks for being such dolls about the huge gaps in updates. I know that isn't very nice of me.**

* * *

He jolts awake in the middle of the night, panicking and afraid.

It takes several long moments and deep breaths for him to calm down, and when he does, he notices its two in the morning. He groans and rolls back over.

Sundays are for sleeping in.

* * *

Jesse's life is _brilliant_. There's no other word for it. It's beautiful and fun and a little hard, a little frustrating sometimes but it makes it that much better.

He found out quickly that four straight national titles in show choir mean very little to the outside world, especially if that world is Los Angeles, the City of Never-Ending Talent. His voice is great – his voice is amazing, actually – but his acting skills weren't exactly up to par and neither were his skills in general studies.

He's had to change, these past few months. He could've gotten by just the way he was, but Jesse St. James has never been content with just 'getting by.' He's always been and always wanted to be the best and so he's had to learn how to work and how to want to work. And he likes to believe that he's a better person for it.

He's landed the role of Lumiere in the UCLA's production of Beauty and the Beast. It's not the Beast – it's not even Gaston – but it's something. Better than that; it's pretty damn awesome for a freshman.

Jesse really has it all.

* * *

But sometimes when he spins around Stella, the girl playing Babette, he wishes with all his heart that she was Rachel.

* * *

He should call her. He hasn't seen her since Christmas, since he made everything all right between them. He should check on her. She seemed so sad, so tiny. She vaguely hinted at everything that'd been going on and Jesse just knew he should've killed Finn Hudson when he had the chance.

He'd had a plan, last year. Actually, just a really spectacular plan, if he did say so himself. He was going to come clean to Rachel and then once she forgave him like he knew she would, he would whisk her away to Vocal Adrenaline where they would create a fabulous set list for Regionals, starring themselves, of course, and absolutely stomp New Directions into the ground. And somewhere along the way he would tell her that he was stupid in love with her and they would spend the summer together, laughing and singing and kissing and many other _thoroughly_ enjoyable activities while he tried to convince her that UCLA was a much better choice than any New York school.

But it didn't turn out that way. Strangely enough, Rachel didn't take too kindly to betrayal. Smashing an egg on her head might've had something to do with it. But that absolute worst part was that he did nothing to try to get her back. It would've been work, and old-Jesse didn't do work that wasn't VA-related.

New-Jesse, had he existed last year, could've won her back. He would've made it right.

He consoles himself by remembering the hug Rachel gave him at Christmas just before he left. And then he smiles fades away as he remembers thinking that she had never felt so frail before.

* * *

"_I didn't exactly expect you to answer, so this is okay. I know you hate having that little voicemail icon just blinking on your phone, taunting you, so I know you'll listen to this eventually. I just wanted to call and say hello, to ask you how you are. I am doing __**brilliantly**__, if you must know. LA's a dream – you still stuck on New York? I got the role of Lumiere in __**Beauty in the Beast**__, but my Babette's got nothing on you. But honestly, how are you? How's glee? Hudson still giving you trouble? Kurt still being a bitch? I hope, at the very least, you've punched Quinn in her suspiciously-perfect nose. You know you're the best, Rache, don't let anyone tell you different. Not even me. Call back!"_

* * *

"…_but seriously, Rachel, call back. I really do want to hear from you. Just…to talk. To know you're okay. I know I shouldn't say this, but I miss you. You promised you'd call and you never did. And I'm worried you didn't keep those other promises either. So please, doll, call me."_

* * *

Jesse sets the phone down. Picks it back up. Expects it to start ringing at any moment: _'Rachel Calling'_

It doesn't.

But he's not too worried. He remembers back when they dated – they got into some pretty epic games of phone tag. Rachel was just so anal retentive that she had to return any and all phone calls she missed. He'd pick up his phone and "_You-have-three-Unheard -messages. First-unheard-message. Sent-today-at-4:45-p.m:_

'_Jesse, I'm terribly sorry I missed your call! But why didn't you leave a voicemail, because how am I supposed to know if it was something important if you don't at least leave me a message? Although I suppose if it was really important you would've sent me a text. Although – oh dear, that's my second 'although' in a row, and you know, I once read the thesaurus front to back to avoid those kind of mistakes. I'll go with 'however.' Okay….however, I must say I'm grateful you did not text me, as yours are impossible to read. Really, Jesse, acronyms are no man's friend.'_

_Next-unheard-message-sent-today-at-5:13-p.m:_

'_Jesse. You know how much this will bother me. Please call me back? You're usually so punctual – I'm wandering into the dangerous territory of those needy girls who call the hospitals and ask for the boyfriends when the reality is they just got stood up, but still. I'm not calling the hospital, I'm calling you. And you, Jesse St. James, need to call me back. Oh, this is Rachel, by the way. Of course.'_

_Next-unheard-message-sent-today-at-7:52-p.m:_

'_Please?...Above all, I would really like to hear your voice.'"_

He can't remember if he ever did call her back that night.

* * *

(He didn't.)

* * *

The day wears on, and something in him sinks just as the sun does. He figures it's just nerves – after all, it's his first big play this week, and plays are so much different than show choir competitions. But he's worked so hard for this. He's practiced and trained and fought and he _knows_ he can do this. Jesse St. James belongs in front of audience.

He checks his phone from time to time but Rachel never calls back. He can't help but feel a little hurt.

The phone finally rings and he jumps to pick it up, but it's just Stella, informing him that the makeup and costuming calls and the scenes being performed from Preview Day on Tuesday have been posted.

"Are you nervous?" She says in her high voice that is just a smidge off grating.

Jesse opens his mouth to answer when a high pitched beeping erupts in his ear. '_Incoming call – Shelby Corcoran.'_ He stares at that name and all the bad (the worst) feelings comes rushing back in. He pushes the 'ignore' button and puts the phone back to his ear.

And sighs. "Yeah, I really am."

* * *

He ignores Shelby's call. She leaves a voicemail – he ignores that, too. He doesn't want to talk to Shelby Corcoran, he doesn't want to listen to her, he doesn't even want to think about her. That was the best part of graduating high school, leaving that woman behind.

He knows he owes her a lot – quite possibly his entire world, but Jesse has never been able to forgive her. Four years under her thumb had made him the best at what he did, but it wasn't until he met Rachel and the rest of New Directions that he realized that Shelby had also created this shelled-out, unfeeling _boy_. The one with the beautiful voice and beautiful face, the one who was _nothing but_ a beautiful voice and a beautiful face.

He put his whole self into who he was and found out _who he was _was no one. Jesse thinks there is no worse feeling.

* * *

(Jesse will regret thinking that.)

* * *

He ignores three more calls and two more voicemails. When the phone stays silent for an hour after Shelby's last call, he figures she must've taken the hint and turns in for the night.

He stares at the ceiling for an hour, willing calm and peaceful thoughts into his head, but that little knot in his chest never loosens.

* * *

Monday brings five more calls from Shelby and no calls from Rachel. Jesse doesn't so much mind this – it is a hectic day, full of last minute fittings and rehearsals, a speedy run-through of the script, and cast photos for the program.

Jesse can barely breathe.

He nearly collapses onto the couch in his apartment. He is so very tired. Dimly he hears the phone buzz on the coffee table and groans. Shelby never gives up.

He grabs it up just as it stops ringing and with a bit of surprise notes the new name on the missed calls list: Stella. No doubt to gossip with him – Stella for some reason has convinced herself that he is gay and just doesn't know it yet.

And Jesse really cannot deal with that today. He also can't just ignore the new voicemail the pops up because Stella might have said something important about the play. So he dials one, presses 'speaker,' and throws the phone back on the coffee table and himself back on the couch to listen.

It isn't until he hears the wrong voice that he remembers Shelby's voicemails.

"_Jesse, it's Shelby Corcoran. Listen, I know you don't want to hear from me, but you need to keep listening. I don't know exactly how to say this…I haven't really figured it out myself. And you know I wouldn't bother you for anything that wasn't really important."_

There is a deep, shuddering breath, a sound that Jesse has never heard Shelby Corcoran make before. And his chest, where that knot of nerves lay, tightens painfully and he knows he doesn't want to hear this.

A whisper. "_It's Rachel." _And it's like he's been paralyzed. Like God has finally found a fitting punishment for all the bad things Jesse ever did: to sit here and listen to his worst fears come to life and not be able to do anything to stop them.

"_Earlier this morning, Noah Puckerman found Rachel in her bathroom. She had tried to…commit suicide by overdosing on Vicodin pills. And…it almost worked. But Noah got her to the ER in time and they brought her back._

"_She's stable now. Well…her condition is stable. I've just been to see her and she's…well, she tried to kill herself, okay? She's not…"_

A deep breath.

"_She's not…there._

"_I just thought you should know. She wrote some letters before…one of them is for you."_

And the voicemail ends there. The machine carries on, playing the rest of them, but Jesse doesn't move.

Not for a long time.

* * *

When he was ten, he asked for singing lessons. His parents gave him riding lessons instead. Jesse was so angry that he refused to listen to anything his instructor said and so, on his first ride, was promptly thrown off his mount.

He hit the ground rather hard; all the air in his body left in a violent gasp. But it didn't hurt. It was just so shocking.

Only later, when he had gotten to his feet, did his ears start to ring and his bones start to ache. Only then did his legs give out underneath him.

* * *

This is nothing like that.

* * *

The grief and pain that sets over him isn't mind-numbing like they say it is in books and movies. On the contrary, Jesse is quite sure his brain is going to explode at any moment and he's a little ashamed when he finds that that would be a relief.

It's just that he keeps getting part on the suicide part. Not the part where Rachel is okay – '_well, her condition is stable' - _or the part where Rachel was saved. Not even the part where her savior was that asshole Puckerman.

And so he keeps forgetting and it kind of feels like she's died. Because when he strips it bare all that's left is Rachel and the suicide part. _Her _suicide.

There is just no way – that girl, who sat beside him so shyly on the piano bench, who spun with him on a choir room floor, danced ballet with him, sang with him, kissed him. _That's_ Rachel.

This girl, who tried to kill herself – that's someone else. Some_thing_ else. Some problem, not his.

He keeps circling back and it feels like she's dead. Like Shelby called to tell him when the funeral is, and if it's formal or if he could get away with wearing jeans.

* * *

And he imagines that she must've been cold, and alone, and probably a little afraid. That she probably got the first few pills down really quick then slowed down because it was so _Rachel _to only doubt herself when she was halfway across the finish line.

He imagines that she counted her heartbeats and her exhales, that she got frightened when they got slower but took another pill anyway.

He imagines that she wasn't sorry.

* * *

He honestly considers going to Lima, he does. But what can he do? How in the world could he help her? In all actuality, this was probably partially his fault.

He knows it's cowardly, but he doesn't want to read his letter. He doesn't read his dying ex-girlfriend's last words.

Mostly because he can't bear the idea that her last thoughts of him were painful ones.

Besides, he can't leave. His breakthrough at UCLA, his big role, his big chance – he can't miss that. Rachel would want him to stay, Rachel would understand. Of all people, Rachel would get it.

He just can't give up on this. It's his chance to prove that he doesn't need Shelby Corcorans or Vocal Adrenalines to make it. That he can do it all on his own and by his own merits.

He needs this.

* * *

His ears are ringing.

He is vaguely aware that he must be dreaming, because he's back at the Carmel High auditorium, wearing a bright pink shirt and sitting at a piano. Lamest dream ever.

"_Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see. I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy.  
Because I'm easy come, easy go, little high, little low.  
Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, To me."_

There is an annoying vibration – his phone, on the bench beside him. He ignores it, trying to perfect his high note. But the notes aren't coming. He slams the lid shut on the piano and grabs up his phone and bagging, dialing for his voicemail as he leaves the building.

"_Jesse."_

He stops. His name on Rachel's lips sound so much like an accusation. She doesn't sound like she's been crying, which he thought would disappoint him, but instead just brings him relief.

"_I just want a full explanation for why you have done this. To me. I didn't do anything to deserve this, so I must conclude that you did it all for your own amusement. Which is…disappointing. I thought you were more than that. More than a lifeless puppet, like the rest of your team. I hate being wrong, ever, but this hurts more because…because I did love you. Really. And I don't want to be wrong about you. I want you to be everything I thought you were, even if it was a pretty high ideal. I thought you were the one guy who could actually reach it. Prove me right, Jesse. Explain."_

His finger drifts to number four – still Rachel's speed dial. _Explain._ He could fix things. He could make it go back to the way it was before. Perfect. Jesse smiles and presses the number.

* * *

(Real life is not perfect. So Real Life Jesse never called back. Real Life Jesse rolled his eyes and deleted the voice mail and went on to crush an egg on Rachel Berry's head and all her dreams at regionals.)

* * *

He makes two calls the next morning. One to inform the director that he won't be there for Preview Day. The other to book a flight to Lima, Ohio.

Maybe for once, Romeo can save the girl.


End file.
